Preschool Football

The runner's life requires discipline, sometimes the occasional denial of of life's more-pleasurable pursuits.  But when a Simon's football (you may call it soccer) match and a hash kennel (mis-)management meeting falls on the same afternoon as a workout, common sense states it's better to defer the task and make many (female) family members happy.  Because, like the old phrase says "when Mama (in this case, "Grammy" Suzanne...) ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." 

And this coach is all for happiness.

Four-year-old footballers, like Simon, do not naturally exhibit the same skills as the first-division professionals I've enjoyed watching for the past three decades, with the exception of the one kid who had the "crumpled on the turf" posture at the mouth of the goal down pat, which occurred immediately after the opposing team's score.  The match looked kind of like what happens when an order of french fries is dropped in the parking lot of a Burger King in Florida:  The french fries represent the soccer ball, the seagulls are the players.

So I laughed and cheered both sides for twenty minutes, and marveled at the fun the small fry were having; it was clear they were enjoying themselves.  What they were doing was - for their benefit - a simplified version of football, without corner kicks or offside rules.  Everybody played the entire game, and - save a few handball calls - no real fouls in spite of the two goal mouth dives from that one kid.

"You beat my husband up pretty good on Saturday," said the hash treasurer.

I explained that her husband was as much responsible for his own beating as I.  Suzanne concurred with my assessment of the situation, and suggested "hash cash" could keep him company at the next Saturday morning workout.

She said, "I just started a 'couch-to-five-kilometer' training program at the local running emporium, and all they do is tell us to 'go run.'  I was paired up with a guy who runs slower than I do, and I really don't feel like I'm getting any benefit out of it."

"You couldn't run any faster?"  I asked.

"No.  And what about nutrition?  What about core, stretching, and cross-training?  Sure, they gave us an information sheet, but I feel like I paid for something..."
"More prescriptive?"

"Yes."

"Tell you what I'll do." I said.  "Let's do dinner some Friday evening.  We can talk about all this and find out what you want to get out of a training program.  I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability, and point you in the right direction."

The "hash cash's" lament succeeded in winding me up in the manner of a cheap wristwatch, but, because I promised my wife I would not speak ill of local running impresari I made only weak comments.  It wasn't until the following morning as I was preparing for work - amazing what a hot shower (and Tina Turner's "Private Dancer...") can do for encouraging deep thoughts - that it all came to me.  The goal of a Cto5K program isn't that far removed from that of a recreational football program for four year-olds:  Minimize the hard stuff, maximize the fun.  So what if the other team beats you by two goals; everyone got to play, everyone got to chase after the ball, right?  And everybody on the sidelines were cheering for you, right?

In Kenny Moore's biography, Oregon coach Bill Bowerman considered running an act which was as easy as brushing ones' teeth.  Bowerman's protege' Bill Dellinger clarified that belief; running may have paralleled basic dental care, but training was like having ones' teeth cleaned for an hour each day.  It's bad enough that middle and high school physical education teachers, athletic coaches at all levels, and the military service have turned running from a joyous activity into punishment and drudgery.  Sometimes we need to take the activity and restore it back to it's most simple form of placing one foot in front of the other, repeatedly, for as long as we can enjoy it.  When a world record holder in the marathon (Alberto Salazar) recommends running no more than 30 minutes a day for five or six days out of the week, and adding other forms of exercise to build muscle strength and flexibility, there might be something to be said about why we run for longer than that duration.

We run because it makes us happy.  And if we aren't happy, and if we aren't running in a way that makes us happy...

Refrigerator Door Expectations

Once upon a time there was a young man.  He possessed a keen mind, loved to read, and was - in the words of his maternal grandmother - a bit of a chatterbox.  Unfortunately, his handwriting skills were less-than-stellar.  He could not make the letters look exactly like the ones stapled over the chalkboard; his third grade teacher did not less about his reading comprehension or his verbal ability, she cared only about his penmanship.  She insulted his writing efforts once in front of his classmates, which had the exact opposite effect of her intentions.  He completely gave up on all of his scholastic efforts for the remainder of the year, doing just enough to get by.

The same young man adapted over time, learning to use a typewriter and used neat block lettering for all of his handwriting efforts.  Surprisingly, he decided to become a teacher, and learned early on in his education studies about the work of Robert Rosenthal.  Rosenthal was a professor at Harvard University, who asked in the mid-1960s if the expectations of outside influencers - like teachers, parents, and so forth - could mean the difference between positive and negative outcomes in the household, school, workplace.  Setting a reasonably-high standard, believing the standard could be made, and communicating that belief in many different ways?  Rosenthal learned that teachers who believed their students could achieve had students who could - and did - achieve.  And yes, teachers who doubted a student could succeed were more likely to see that student struggle or fail.

I have a full-page sheet of paper on my refrigerator door with the training plan for the first 22 weeks of the calendar year laid out.  Days where I run, days where I cross-train, rest days and the goal duration to spend during each day's workout session or sessions; all of the information is in black and white.  Since I'm still in the process of building strength, endurance and overall fitness and not focused on a particular race distance, the workouts are straightforward base-building.  Six weeks into the 22, the calendar shows more positive markings; workouts accomplished, intensities met, sometimes even both.  Every filled block is a step in what I hope is the right direction, travel toward the desired goal.

The calendar on the fridge, with its "big picture" notations, are the macro version of my little daily workout spreadsheet.  I don't post mileage or anything quantitative; there are only three types of marks on the calendar, corresponding to a qualitative standard - really good, good, or not-so-good.  One mark reminds me I met both the intensity and duration goals for the day, if I met the duration but not the intensity I place a different mark on the calendar.  If by some reason I didn't work out at all - unless I am sick or traveling - I mark the date with a big, fat "X."  Naturally, that's a "not-so-good" day.

So far, there have only been four of those "X" days.  And a few days where I didn't get the duration or intensity I hoped, because of outside issues.  But I have to admit I've met or exceeded expectations more often than not.  I don't need to scour through the spreadsheet to tell myself things are improving.  And if I feel a little too lazy and start to think about cracking open a beer rather than going for a run, all I have to do is take a look at the "big picture" on the refrigerator door.

We Don't Think All That Much

As I was driving home from work on Friday afternoon I observed what I consider one of those "things which might make you go 'Hmmm...'"

Take a look at the cars around you the next time you're on a road trip or sitting at a crowded intersection. In much the same manner as a picture tells a story, like deciphering the ribbons and service medallions to figure the story of a military service member's accomplishments, we can learn much about our fellow travelers:

Where they live. License plates usually are a narrow-down, but not always. Extra hints can come from drivers with vanity license plate tags (Florida has probably the widest variety of vanity tags of all fifty states.). Sometimes you get a sneaky, esoteric vanity tag owner who gives their tag a more subtle meaning (a fast car with "B4NE1,"). Gives the DMV workers something to think about.

Marital status, number and gender of kids, animal and religious preference. The "cartoon character eared" family line-up is probably the strangest one I've run into, with the Native American kokopelli and the Polynesian-themed turtles being the coolest.

Where they or their kids go/went to school/college. Occasionally you get couples whose loyalties are split between two rival schools, which adds the Lincolnesque "house divided" identification. But there are vehicles and drivers ahead of me on the roadway who I knew were more likely dedicated to the "institution of higher football;" often proven by an action which reinforced their lack of academic (or financial?) wherewithal to get in. Okay, maybe not; common sense does not always equal common knowledge.

Their favorite athlete, team, sport or sports governing body. I bet NASCAR fans go into a tizzy at the end of the season, hoping and praying their favorite driver doesn't move to another team. Triathletes, especially those who participate in those events which start with an "I," always seem to have at least one sticker for every venue at which they've participated. I jokingly used a derogatory term for these persons after seeing car after car loaded with stickers for Wisconsin, Lake Placid and Louisville...in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Panama City.

Their political stance, to include support of present or former successful/lost causes. Come on, guys...the election was over years ago; in some cases we're talking ten. I peel that sucker off the glass the day after the election results are announced, win or lose. Gotta feel sorry for those poor Minnesotans who waited six months to figure out whether Coleman or Franken won.

Their sense of humor...which often ties directly or indirectly to all of the previous categories. Every once in a while you see a bumper sticker which transcends most of the topical areas. My favorite had to be one I saw years ago while living in Tampa: "Cat Lovers Against The Bomb."

A smart person equipped with a notepad and a smart phone can probably gain enough intelligence on the modern middle-class driver to wreak havoc on their life, all in the course of a 60-second period of time...the time it takes to pull a snapshot. But what kills me is this: The people who display their identity, affinity, proclivity, and "derivity" so openly on their motor vehicles are usually the same persons who complain about the invasion of the internet, the World Wide Web, service providers, and the government (at varying levels) on their privacy.

Sometimes, we just don't think all that much. Not about how weather conditions like heat and humidity affect our running performance. Not about adapting our workout intensity, duration, location or time to account for those conditions. Not about wearing clothes and accessories during our workouts which can reflect heat from above and below. And, most of all, not about hydrating during the day, rather than just during the run.

I went to run a 5K road race - on a lark - mere hours after I wrote a blog post about hydration. I hadn't drank much after an early morning visit to the gym, and I didn't even think about what possibly could go awry during my warm-up. In fact, I had the pre-race jitters and the feeling like I should make a run for the porta-potty. However, I knew once I started sweating things would be all right.

Boy, was I wrong.

I was parched by the time I approached the first aid station; usually I'll take a cup to pour on my head, but this time I needed two in me. Simply put, I forgot all about my own recovery and pre-race advice and counsel... Seven months is a long time between races; sometimes we forget the simple things - hydration, nutrition, warm-up, pacing, and patience - in that period of time.

As George Clinton of Parliament/Funkadelic said: "Think. It Ain't Illegal Yet."

Sacred Cow Hamburgers

For many years, my father worked in law enforcement, then joined the civil service, from which he retired about five years ago. It's probably a safe assumption that his closest friendships were with other law enforcement or public service employees while he was a cop. Dad's a fairly reserved guy, but I do remember he opened up most in the presence of other cops, sheriff's deputies, border patrolmen and firefighters. The tales sometimes sounded like a screenplay for the "COPS" series; but, fortunately for my dad and his colleagues those moments came rarely. (Yes, there were moments when things hit the fan, too. Those were tales I heard a couple of years down the road.)

After six years of military service, I worked in medical administration. Because I could focus without being distracted by certain aspects of hospital environments I was often assigned to work in intensive care units or cardiology wards. What surprised me the most was not the challenge of learning medical-speak, or deciphering doctor handwriting, but the jokes during the "unguarded" moments which came intermittently on the wards, but flowed at a torrent once the end-of-week happy hour came. Nurses and techs who were "all business" for forty hours, once seated behind a glass of white zinfandel and a basket of tortilla chips, would become instant comedians or comediennes.

These were the moments where sacred cows were transformed into hamburger.

One Friday, I naively asked one of the nurses how they could crack such crass jokes about otherwise life-altering scenarios. She then explained to me that the first years for many health care workers are usually the the most difficult, because coping mechanisms have not quite developed and they come to the sudden revelation they will be around sick, injured, cranky people for the remainder of their career. Many times coping comes as a choice of humor over depression; most who made it past the first years chose to be humorous.

I eventually moved into education and learned that teachers aren't much different than cops and health care workers. These persons are asked to deal with (sometimes) the more difficult or dark side of human existence. And be professional at all times. So when the choice comes to laugh or cry, many choose laughter, but some choose the teachers' lounge.

Riding the lead police vehicle for the marathon course was a two-hour trip back to the teachers' lounge of my young adulthood, or the Fraternal Order of Police lodge of my youth. It was deja vu, all over again; perspective I never had as a race worker, but one which didn't surprise me much. The two officers I rode with were professional, yet their observations of runners and running were some of the funniest I had heard in the past 15 years.

Fit for public consumption? Not in the slightest. They warned I would be corrupted by the end of the ride.

Were there things I took away to file for future reference? Absolutely.

Coaches vary in personality; in how we approach training, recovery, success, shortcoming, injury, rehabilitation, communication, and so on. None, I bet, decided to be a coach so they could take total control over an athlete's life, much like few go into law enforcement wanting to deal with criminals, or medical professionals with sick people. Most decide to coach because they love the sport and the process of teaching. They get to deal with the side of athletes, though, which wants to do silly things, like race a 5K in the morning, a 5K in the afternoon...and then ask the next day why they ache.

And we do, sometimes, slap our foreheads in dismay. Sometimes we write caustic e-mails and blog posts to get ideas and opinions out of our head...and hope like mad the right message is put across. And those messages, most often are: Keep everything in perspective. One person's sacred cow is another person's food source. And, most importantly, you're only as good as your next race.

No Inner Child Left Behind

There are a number of careers I've considered...after I retire from the one which pays the overwhelming majority of my bills. Frankly, none of them have to do with (making a living in) education or coaching. I have many friends who spent the vast majority or entirety of their careers in the K-12 realm, many of them asked the rhetorical 'why in heaven's name would you want to go into teaching?' question during the years I spent in undergrad study. Naturally, I provided the wide-eyed true believer, Christa McAuliffe "I wanna make a positive influence on the future" answer.

But I could really see the handwriting (spray-painted, probably!) on the wall, as did my professors. I was vehemently opposed to standardized testing even during my undergrad time, which was reinforced by my self-imposed reading regimen of books like Joseph Sacks' Standardized Minds, as well as the raft of Maxine Greene, Paulo Freire, Ira Shor, & John Dewey articles/books willingly loaned to me by my professors. It never made sense that a person who taught for six hours a day, then worked an additional three to six hours a day, should be judged on their ability to make a positive influence on learners who they might worked with for two hours a day (in the case of middle/high school teachers).
It kind of feels like being a coach of adult runners. I can work with a person for 90 minutes a day, three-to-five days a week (depending on the schedule & their interest), but I'll never have the complete control over the other 160-plus hours which are taken up by their rest, real employment, home life & need for something that appears to be a normal social life. So, if the runner is doing well at races & achieving their personal goals, I cannot help but be pleased. If they're not doing well, & unwilling to make changes because it doesn't fit what they want to do with the rest of their life, I probably (in a perfect world) should not be looked upon as a bad coach.

That's another good reason for me to not deal with youth runners. I work with young adults fresh out of high school now, & the only difference between their 17-to-22-year-old intellect (which probably differs little from that of my nephew who did NOT graduate from a "little technical college on the banks of the Severn River") & my intellect when I was their age...I think I was a little less stoopid. Well, maybe not stoopid, but maybe less derisive of my elders. Ah, but I digress.
When you're dealing with - coaching - youth runners, you often (unlike the middle/high school History teacher I aspired to be) deal with a second wanna-be athlete, living vicariously through the accomplishments of young Johnny/Susie. They want instant, unparalleled success worse than their kid does. Truth. Admit it. How many times have you seen the "my kid is a..." bumper sticker on the back of the car? I realize it's not just a thing which lasts through elementary school (my father tells stories about the latest run or triathlon I've completed every so often, too...), but I think the little league parent syndrome is more common between ages 5 & 25.

You could be deeply involved in the training of a kid, & the parent is asking the opinion of another coach. Personally, it would drive me up the wall. Kind of like bringing a barista into the local coffee shop with you, and asking them what they would do to make the cappuccino you just sweated bullets over better. Come a little closer to this little steam nozzle & I'll make you another one. How 'bout that?Besides, the day coachiing looks, feels, smells, acts, or tastes like work is the day I get the hell away from it.

Living and Learning

"Let's call all the fun we've had living, living; Let's call all mistakes we've made learning, learning..." - "Living and Learning," Mel Tillis (1971)

(Note: Today's weblog title & the reference lyrics are in honor of my late grandfather, who used to sing & play little ditties like this one, so long ago.)In the business world, perhaps in the last decade...maybe a little longer back than that, there was a focus on transforming businesses into "learning organizations." Training & education managers, formerly the red-headed stepchild forced to share a bedroom with human resources, suddenly became a C-level (or sea level, if you wish to look at it that way, especially if you're at the water's edge...) entity all its own. It was one of the important disciplines in business, especially if you believed what you read in Peter Senge's The Fifth Discipline.

Ah, those were the good old days. Now, in the age of shrinking (shrunken?) budgets, training & education, as well as the CLO (Chief Learning Officer) have been forced to come back home & share the room with manpower & personnel...human resources. But, it doesn't make learning any less important a part of living. John Dewey once said: 'training is not preparation for life. Training is life...' or something to that extent (shame on me, an education guy, for not knowing the exact quote).

That's the most fun about coaching & training, I think. In order to be as efficient with my training as I possibly can...even more important as I become older & less efficient in recovering from races and workouts as I used to be...I have to read, research, re-read, & re-research what coaches, scientists, & even athletes have found to be the most effective means of training, fortifying, supplementing, recovering, & so on. I like it, it fits well with my personality. It provides me the opportunity to try something a little bit different, or adapt to what I'm already doing, before I try it on any of my athletes.

Doing this involves what I guess the Zen masters might call beginners' mind. You have to wipe out any preconception about a particular topic in order to listen clearly, lest your Charlie Brown filter be engaged. We all have that filter; the one that turns plain, simple language into waah, waah, waah-waah, waah...waah in less than 3.2 seconds, leaving us stupider than before. Turning on that filter not only makes you more stupid, but makes your life much less enriched.

I've kicked myself in the butt on many an occasion for not listening more closely to friends who read an article in Runners' World, Triathlete, Geezerjock, & wanted to share their insights with me. Usually that kick in the butt came after remembering, 'hey, didn't so-and-so tell you about a particular piece of equipment, or a particular exercise that would have kept you from crashing & burning in that event?' Then I have to go back, reclaim beginners' mind, & listen to what I should have listened to before. Well, C.S. Lewis once wrote, 'pain is the megaphone of God,' so maybe it was the Almighty's way of telling me...'(WHACK!) Stoopid...what were you thinking!? Wait, were you thinking!?'

So, there I was, standing in my local running emporium, sweating my behind off, listening to one of my advisors talk to a marathon training group about hydration & nutrition. Normally, I would have shrugged off the vast majority of the information; turned on the Charlie Brown filter. But this time, well, you can blame it on Nikki...she handed me an outline of the lecture. What else could I do but stand at the back of the store and listen in. 'Who knows, dude...' I said to myself, 'you might even learn something.'Since the marathon has been my weakest running event, & the one which will probably determine how well or poorly I do in November, I figured it couldn't hurt. No worse than doing the walk of shame for ten kilometers to keep from blowing up my achilles, which I did in 2007.

It was no surprise to hear the obvious: 'we are in two states...training & preparing for training.' But it never really clicked until then. I learned a good possible root cause for my weight plateau & a few other nutrition specifics. Gee. What a concept.

So, by allowing myself to go to beginners' mind I was able to learn a few things which could make the difference between a bad day & a good day, or a good day & a very good day...both now & in the near future.

"And we'll go on through life together living and learning..."

Give Back

Fresh back from the third of three trips this month; one good reason why I stayed home last weekend rather than going to a local trail run. It was a wonderful time for my wife and me; her first opportunity to meet my (closest) family, my first opportunity to see family in about four years. The last time we all got together like this, my nephew was graduating from high school. This time he was graduating from the Naval Academy.
There was no lack of social activities during Commissioning Week; a pace which, while dizzying for graduates and families, provided many opportunities to say thank you. Dan (now Ensign Dan!), his mother, and his sponsor family managed to organize a couple of barbecues and dinners (and yes, there was no want for beer!) to thank each of the far-flung constituents for sending themselves to Naptown for a few days at a time each year, and sending their youngsters to Canoe U. for four years.
Small price to pay, I guess, for a taxpayer-paid technical education.

So, what does this mean to the individual athlete, especially the one who might care to read this?

How many times have you been at a running event, or participated in an open-water swim, or a triathlon, and complained about the lack of volunteer support at the event, such as 'not enough persons to tell you where to turn on the course,' 'under-manned or - worse - unmanned aid stations,' and the like?
Have you ever thanked the nameless volunteer who handed you those iced sponges on that 80-plus-degree day? Have you wondered why posting the results took 30 minutes longer than the race director originally intended, or why the award ceremony was delayed?
It's so simple to look at an event and figure out the shortcomings, complain, and tell your friends how fouled up the organization is...it's more challenging to offer your help to a race, especially when there's no chance you will be recognized...more likely you'll receive somewhere along the lines of one to three sharp kicks in the backside from the participants for your perceived incompetence.

Even running and triathlon clubs (and probably lots of other civic organizations, for that matter) suffer, at a larger level, from this challenge. They ask their members to give back a small bit of themselves to the community, but fall prey to a number of organizational pitfalls:
Data and Feedback - Most clubs call for volunteers through newsletter appeal, but few utilize an active approach to draw them in, track the amount of time they labor, or (worst of all) recognize their efforts on a regular basis. It doesn't have to be a gold watch; a public thank you can be worth its weight in gold. I think it was Mark Twain who said something to the extent of, 'I can survive for two weeks on a compliment.'
The RRCA has a volunteer thank you program that ranges from a certificate of recognition for 2,000 hours of service, to national awards for president, editor, club writer, and members whose work focuses on womens' running, youth running, road race of the year...and the list goes on.
Processes - I served on a club board with the goal to ensure local race courses were all USATF-certified. Once on the board, I found myself tangled in what seemed to not have much to do with running; the board was approaching the same issues every month without resolution. And any kind of suggestion to change something needed almost a complete consensus of the board members in order to withstand the withering flame of disagreement from club officers. (NOTE - PERCEPTIONS, WHILE NOT NECESSARILY REALITIES, WERE REAL ENOUGH FOR THIS WRITER) Board members were also expected to volunteer at every local club race. There were precious few volunteer jobs to be accomplished immediately before or after a race for athletes who wanted to run and were willing to volunteer.
Sometimes there needs to be a freedom for willing volunteer workers to spread their wings and make a few mistakes...there are areas where long-standing, experienced members can mentor and teach some tricks of the trade or provide lessons learned. But, in order to develop future leaders, sometimes you have to let them lead.
Incentives - It's possible to burn-out volunteer crew by calling on them to work every race in the same job, providing the same reward of many kicks in the behind...as well as the race t-shirt, bagels and beer after the race and nothing else. Club program can unintentionally operate at odds with each other: If a club has a grand prix series consisting of all its races and does not take volunteer activity into account or requires all of its races to be scored, athletes are more likely to value the incentive of a grand prix award higher than that of the race shirt, bagels, beer, etc. And, going back to the data and feedback, if the club is not honoring or recognizing volunteer workers, then there's little incentive to sweat out on the roadside.
Everyone wants a pat on the back. Some race directors and clubs are better than others in this area. But it might help to keep in mind whether you're crippling your club's education and leadership development focus by not providing some kind of incentive.

The first three are things that fall squarely on the shoulders of a club. The next three are focused more on the individual member:
Motives - This is the classic 'what's in it for me' area. There are persons who want the roar of the crowd, the desire to tell people what to do, or the love of the game. Just as every individual is unique, so are their motivation. A club volunteer coordinator might be able to tap their friends or acquaintances on a weekly basis for about a year, maybe two, but after that it's possible the potential volunteer will run the other way when they see their friend, the volunteer coordinator coming. The volunteer coordinator has their motives, too...the one who taps their closest friends without thinking about the new guy/gal who just moved into town might want to keep the party to themselves.
A smart club will find a way to check the pulse of their club; who has latent or unused talents, who knows someone who knows someone, who has the neat idea or a passion for something that hasn't been tried in years because nobody wanted to take it on, also.
Skills - There are folks who won't volunteer to serve on the board of a club or work a race because they don't feel they have the talents necessary to do anything other than grunt work...and they don't want to be put to work all of the time as labor of opportunity. These are the folks...once you hear them say 'you know, I'd love to help out with (fill in the blank), but I don't know how to do it...' Hook them up with one of the elder statesmen of the club, start a mentoring program. Many hands do make light work.
Education - In case you didn't know about any of this...now you do.

I'm not saying we as athletes need to all quit running races, but it is our responsibility to give something back to the sport. Because eventually we are going to have to stop...I hope it's not for a very long time...and I want to know there's still going to be a place for younger persons to play.

Nuts to You

Still, we are having what I sarcastically call Climate by Sybil. Our hopes are raised by 60-something degree tempeatures, bright sunshine and nearly-perfect conditions, only to be dashed by the onset of sub-freezing crud. I must admit I felt a great deal of sympathy for my athletes as they went through their paces last Tuesday night in the chill with the 20mph gusts kicking the daylights out of them on the front stretch; I did my workout a couple of hours earlier and had my behind kicked on the back stretch. And it was bad enough I lost count of where I was supposed to stop my repetition during the first part of my run.

Yesterday was even colder during the daytime. I resorted to dressing a little closer to an athlete and a little less like an analyst; wearing a technical fiber (tight) top under my dress shirt. I looked like a cross between Johnny Cash and Johnny Gray. But, why am I complaining? I live in Florida. Because I can?
This week has been enough to make my nut-sized brain feel more like a chestnut roasting o'er an open fire. I'm doing the number crunching on a information professional training adequacy survey, plus trying to make sense of the government contracting process. The number crunching isn't so bad, more mentally-draining than anything else. The contracting process, however...woo hoo hoo...that's the reason there are contract officers' representatives (COR), with requisite educational background and all, isn't there? If I can help my commanding officer to understand this stuff I probably deserve a job working as a COR...or a Purple Heart, or an early retirement.

My lunchtime habit of having french-fried potatoes is probably going to have to come to a screeching halt soon enough. I'm not gaining any weight that I can tell right now, and it's not like I can't fit into my size 32 jeans or slacks. Really, most of the weight I think I used to have as fat has probably been burned down to more lean muscle tissue. I can't tell the difference too much, including the times when I'm in the pool (I still have a hell of a time trying to float, but I'm slowly getting a little bit faster here and there...more strength...and so on...). However, I've got to drop a couple of pounds so I don't have to carry them on the bicycle with me this summer...and the only thing I can remotely think to sacrifice (something inherently unhealthy I eat on a regular basis) are french fries.
Man, is that going to suck. Hard. But I guess that's part and parcel with wanting to be an athlete. Nobody who wants to achieve anything in athletics ever achieves it without a little bit of self-sacrifice.

The Job Hunt, Redux

Well, my quote-unquote vacation is quote-unquote almost over. If I had the brains the Almighty provided to wooden geese, I would have taken the other two days this week for which I hadn't originally planned. I'm extending it just a little bit longer to include a long weekend of education in Jacksonville; who knows, I might even be a better coach when it is all said and done.

However, I am taking to heart something I heard yesterday morning from the wife of the man who owns our local running emporium. She reminded me I trained under a different system than the one/s to which most coaches ascribe, so (in so many words) adding more bricks to my knapsack might not be as beneficial as I think. Thank you, Mimi. Spoken like the maternal figure you are. I still bow in your general direction.

Since I'm back in the office, the active hunt for a new job goes back into full swing. Ideally, I'd like to stay at about the same income and (40-hour) time constraint. I've got resumes out in the abyss, but I have the sneaking suspicion nothing will come to pass until I have a reduction-in-force notice in hand (which places me on the preferred placement listing). The sooner I'm in a new j-o-b, the sooner I can figure out what I can do as a coach and an athlete.

Christmas, however, is over. It's time to get back on the chain gang. I have my own personal training plan writ large, as well as my goals. That's always a good start. Following that, as always, comes the hard part of charting the path to the goals, then tracking the progress along the path. As I've become what I like to think of myself as...computer savvy over the last few years, I've graduated from ring-bound logbooks to spreadsheets. Some have been more effective than others. One I liked for many years was developed by David Hays, a physician (I believe). His spreadsheet, which I think is called LogRun, is a neat tool, especially if you want a good, workable, editable way of following your progress...especially when it comes to tracking shoe mileage.

You can keep track down to the mile the distance your shoes have traveled over time, which can save you a load of grief, joint soreness and the risk of overuse injury.

I use it in conjunction with a workout tracker program on the Presidents' Council for Physical Fitness and Sports to estimate what my spinning/indoor trainer and swim workouts would have been if it were a run. It's not perfect, but it beats most anything else I've seen out there. You also can keep track of activity in order to qualify for bronze, silver and gold awards. Oh, yeah, there is a platinum one, too, but I suspect it will take me another four or five years (barring cycling incidents requiring six to eight weeks of hanging out in a sling) to reach that one.

So, take time this week to look at what you accomplished last year, what you wanted to accomplish, and what it might take to bring those missed goals to pass.