Nature's Little Surprises

"Nature loves her little surprises....don't you know it's a waste of your day caught up in endless solutions that have no meaning, just a hunch based on jumping conclusions...living a life of illusion..." - (Joe Walsh, 1981)

On my non-running day this last week, Suzanne and I were invited to a Zumba class by a friend (a former member of my training group, and my dentist) and his girlfriend. When the invitation came I believe I had a good idea what to expect.


In case you spent the last decade in a place where there are no gyms playing a single beat of Latin-flavored dance music, Zumba is a mix of Latin-style dance and aerobic moves. If you squint just so and the lighting is right during a sixty-minute session, you might get visions of Billy Blanks and Shakira.


I've done aerobic classes of one kind or another over the past couple of decades, however almost 30 years had passed since I did my last "mae geri keage" in the dojo, so the kickboxing moves were going to be more difficult. I'd seen the info commercials on television, so I worried a little leading into the class session. First, bouncing around on a linoleum floor in a school cafeteria may not be good rehabilitation for achilles tendonosis. Second, my parents did not pass on the "dance" gene, at least not to any popular dance outside of "high school hug-disguised-as-a-slow-dance" dance.

But I did remember my first aerobic instructor's advice if a routine became too complicated:

Keep breathing. Breathing is definitely a good idea, considering the unsavory alternatives. I don't do "smurf" all that well.

Keep moving. Standing still in an exercise class when everyone else is moving eventually leads to unintended collisions. Kickboxing moves, not full-contact kumite, grasshopper.

Keep smiling. If smiling is not possible a grimace looks much like a smile from a distance.

In that order.


But most importantly, I was going to be (probably) the second guy in a class full of women. There are guys who feel comfortable in their presence. There are guys who, by circumstance, spend a great deal of their life in their close proximity. If you're one of those guys whose livelihood (two good examples being the medical and educational disciplines) requires you to be in close proximity, you learn a lot of things.

You learn women are EXACTLY like men. At least when they are in an environment where they are the overwhelming majority, if not the totality. Sure, their work spaces are a little more nicely decorated, scented, and accessorized, otherwise they're alike. While I've never spent time in a ladies' locker room, I can say that women who work in an all-female shop can be very un-ladylike. They are more likely to, to be polite, "let their hair down." I've heard things no man should probably ever know existed. After about six months, I pretty much became one of the girls...estrogen-challenged and testosterone-enhanced, but one of the girls, no less.


After Dr. Quigley's "breathe, move, smile" advice came that of Clint Eastwood, straight out of "Heartbreak Ridge." Sure, that old Marine Corps gunnery sergeant was trying to get in touch with his inner-feminine side (or his ex-wife's), but he valued the ability to 'adapt, overcome, improvise.' As Suzanne moved farther forward into the class and worked at learning the routines, I stayed in the back of the classroom where the traffic was lighter, got a good sweat, and - most importantly - didn't hurt myself or anyone else too much. And, while dance frustrates me, I have to admit I did have a little bit of fun.


Perhaps that's why all-woman health and fitness clubs and women's running groups are popular. The "fairer sex" can feel less hindered or intimidated by us grunting, sweating, metal plate-chucking, lead-by-a half-stride-pace-seeking knuckleheads. Some of them do get better workouts that way. Of course, there are women who completely waste their time socializing or working out at an intensity level just one notch above sitting on the couch.


There are benefits to co-ed training. If you want to get a good weight workout, do it with a chick. There's not going to be a lot of grunting and, if you'll pardon the expression, man-handling the weight. Women more often use proper form and reasonable resistance. They'll get a lot of repetitions in so the muscle is stronger, not necessarily bigger. And there are drawbacks, too. There have been track workouts where my ego had to kick in to keep from getting "chicked" on one or more repeats. I trained with a woman who was so tough, we joked she would only quit a workout when a bone was sticking out of her leg...and only after she realized the bone ws her own.

"Every once in a while," my wife says, "we need to confuse our body by doing something a little different." Here's to the occasional confusion workout. It can be something as simple as changing from the time of the run from evening to morning, the surface from road to treadmill, the situation from running solo to doing a run with a group.

The Courage to Change, The Wisdom to Know

I looked at the runner's watch face, moments after he finished his marathon. He made his goal of under three hours. But to me something felt very wrong.

Late-December clouds, drizzle, and mist might have affected the ability of his Garmin 310XT (the same model I use to measure, train and race) to communicate clearly with the constellation of satellites; it's happened in the past.

Chuck depended on the 310XT for feedback and pace guidance because he was running solo, without benefit of escort vehicle or bicycle on which to gauge his effort. He told me he tried to do the mathematics throughout the run in order to figure out whether he'd make his goal of seven sub-three-hour marathons in seven days. I could see he was not confident of repeating the feat over the next six days, not without accurate feedback outside of his own physiological data.

I drove home and began to walk through the interrogation points I normally give to a GPS user after a race on a course I've measured:

Was he at the exact start line when the horn went off? Yes.

Did he run the shortest possible distance for the entire run? Outside of six-to-eight stops at the outside edge of the track for fluids, he "bloodhounded" the inside lane line.

Did he stop his unit at the exact finish? Most likely; at the worst he stopped it no more than ten meters past the finish mark.

The issue wasn't that his GPS unit registered a distance that was longer than the standard marathon of 26.21876 miles, or 42.195 kilometers. I knew that was going to happen. It was that the GPS unit registered a distance that was much longer than the standard marathon.

An error rate that approaches five percent definitely exceeds my comfort zone. At that point all I could do is start interrogating myself. I've made a mistake, but WHERE?

Maybe on the mathematical calculations? I've been caught with bad calculations in the past, which can cost a day to two days' worth of work, depending on the race distance. I used to use a hand calculator and word processing document in the past to complete my measurement paperwork but quickly learned the joy of Excel spreadsheets. Once you develop a good spreadsheet formula the paperwork turns into "plug and play."

Also, I've had the pleasure of a second measurer in the past two months, as well as the course certifier, looking at my calculations.

The only thing left was to take a look at my calibration. When I first planned the job I was going to do it in kilometers rather than miles; the track was a 400-meter track, so 42.195 was (so I thought!) going to be more simple than doing feet and miles.

Boy, was I wrong.

Back home, I chewed hard on the data, even going out to take a look at my calibration course. It took only an hour of walking up and down the way for me to realize how badly I screwed up.

I punched up the correct data, went back to speak with the race director, and told her I owed Chuck an apology. She understood it was an integrity issue; it took courage to come out and admit the mistake and to fix it as quickly and efficiently as possible. And I guess she was right. I could have let ego, arrogance and even fear force me to keep my mouth shut.

Small-scale misjudgments - whether as a measurer, a coach, or as a runner - may not drastically affect short-distance races, but can be disastrous when it comes to races like the marathon. Think very carefully about all of the training details, because it's the small one that's most likely going to be the most costly.

The More You Complain...

...The Longer God Lets You Live. - Bumper Sticker

One of the first things I love/hate to do immediately after a local running event is to read the bulletin board for the local running organization. I am amused & appalled, all at the same time, by the commentaries. Traditionally these are the posts you end up seeing:

1. Looking For Results. - This person may (or may not) know the event was produced by someone other than the organization who hosts the bulletin board, & doesn't check the web site for the race management company who did time/score the race. Diagnosis: Benign lack of knowledge. Treatment: Education on who scored the event, taken every six months. Prognosis: No known cure.
2. Where's My Award? - this person couldn't stick around for the age group awards because they had to work, didn't want to spend time around a bunch of people drinking light beer at 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday, or knew if they stayed and had beer at 9:30 in the morning they would be completely useless for the remainder of the afternoon. Doesn't matter the award is a nondescript beer glass with no specific year, age or place information (I used to complain about that before, but now, as a race director I learned it's a way to keep the award costs down.), or worse, a nylon ribbon with no race information on it...they want that piece of swag; they need that piece of swag for their I Love Me wall. Diagnosis: Low-grade isolationism. Treatment: Proxy award recipient, taken as needed. Prognosis: Curable, usually by attending evening events or events where beer is not served.

3. You Timed/Scored Me Wrong. - When the individual participant's time doesn't match exactly with their Timex Ironman. I've seen some discrepancies of 10 seconds for every three minutes it takes to run a mile, on average, for which I have no clue. Sometimes I think it's human/computer interface, sometimes I think it's 50 cycles versus 60 cycles of power...again, something for which I have no clue. I once thought bandits were the reason, then I figured 'dude, there'd have to be a lot of banditry to put an ever-increasing margin of error across the board...' Of course, in my humble opinion, as long as you get my score correct (first master, first age group, second age group, whatever...) I'll can accept my own timing & overlook yours. Diagnosis: Multifactorial time-space-training continuum dysfunctionality. Treatment: Popsicle stick/three-by-five card scoring system, take for next three mid-summer races. Prognosis: Presumably non-fatal, but replacement of wanna-be professional chip with amateur chip may be needed in two years.

4. Race Organizer Done Me Wrong. - This could be something as simple as not announcing a name correctly during the awards, to a perceived slight, to not getting the right sized t-shirt...not enough beer...stale bagels...cold chicken wings...no chicken wings...and the list goes on...and on...and on... Diagnosis: Sub-acute Nominally-Anonymous Running Know-It-All Yahoo B@stard (abbreviated: "SNARKY B@stard"). Treatment: IP search, followed by clumsy bludgeoning until apology elicited.

The postings become more & more anonymous, & more inflammatory as you move further down the spectrum from 'can you help me find the results?' to 'why was so-and-so (in my humble opinion) acting like a jerk?' I haven't figured why someone with an axe to grind (all right, that's me on some occasions...) takes their frustrations out on someone in a bulletin board without having the decency to either say it constructively or to identify themselves positively.
I guess it's always more fun for the knucklehead who posts anonymously on a bulletin board to be the one who throws the grenade into the crowded conference room. Rather than saying: 'dude, this race s*cked because this wasn't done; where can I help out to make the event better next year?' they say, 'dude, this race s*cked.'

In defense of most race organizers, they're trying often to do the right thing; make certain nobody gets hurt, then make certain people have a good time...usually in that order. Usually the people who are posting derogatory, anonymous posts are a very small minority, the ones you would not mind not showing up to your next race because they'll never be happy & you'll never be able to encourage them to help out with an event...see the other side of the fence.

OH, AND BY THE WAY...

Happy 69th Birthday, Dad. I'll do 69 minutes on the treadmill in your honor tonight.

Feedback, Continued

Someone suggested last week (through the survey/grapevine) I needed to be less ego-driven and more nurturing, less short-tempered. It was a response I kind of shrugged off; consider the source as someone who didn't want to hear me tell them what I felt they needed to do (one of those things a coach - and a person who is in charge - does).
I did get a little reinforcement of the perception the other afternoon: One of my athletes tries to come out once a week and works hard when at the track. They mentioned I got a little cranky during a workout the previous week. Of course, I was surprised at the honesty in bringing the issue to my attention. I quickly explained myself and told them I would make an honest effort to not be so short-tempered.
It was easy to figure out the root cause of the cranky moods. When I'm trying to run my own workout and organize/supervise...or, better yet, coach other runners at the same time I can get a little short, sweet and to the point. When you're training, it's all about me is the mantra; how much sleep do I need to recover, how much time do I need to set aside for this long run, this cross-training, this therapeutic modality (massage and stretching for those of you who hate those fancy words), and so on. It makes spouses, employers, and family members lose their even keel...especially when they are the ones who always have to adjust their (overcommitted) schedules to fit those of the runner.
In performance improvement, we are often told to ask the why question four or five times in order to get down to the real root cause of the problem.
Problem: Coach Mike is cranky.
Why is Mike cranky? Because he feels his workouts (at the same time as his athletes) are interrupted to deal with stuff.
Why are Mike's workouts interrupted? Because Mike is running his at the same time as his athletes.
Why is Mike running at the same time? Because Mike has a work project that keeps him from running earlier in the afternoon. Mike also has an athlete who runs workouts by himself and needs to control his pace a little better.
So, one issue meets one root cause, or two. Coach Mike's real job (which cannot be changed all that much) compresses his schedule. Coach Mike has an athlete who is running faster than he needs to be at this time of the year. Normally, I wouldn't gripe too much, save for the painfully obvious fact running hard during the heat of the Florida summer is going to do a number on your body. I could let this athlete drive himself into the ground, or I could suggest from the sidelines that he back off. When recommending an easing back on the throttle, I get the I only went (blank) seconds faster on this 400 than the last one response. Of course, then I have to mention another painfully obvious fact; multiply those (blank) seconds on that 400 by four and figure the difference per mile. Bouncing around with (blank x four)-second variations per mile of running is not the way to become a good runner.
I tend to set high (and often, unrealistically high) expectations for myself. I have always done this, not to mention projecting those high expectations onto those around me. In educational theory, it's a well-proven fact teachers who set and communicate high expectations for their students find the students will meet those expectations more often than not. So, while it may seem to the outsider I do not care to the persons who don't want to vault over the bar I set, the exact opposite is true. I care a great deal about every athlete who expresses the desire to improve and makes the honest, consistent and continuous effort to improve.
It's all I can ask from any athlete. It's all I'm entitled to ask from any athlete.

X and Y: When Men and Women Run Together

One of the things I like about triathlon is the (relative) evenness of the playing field. While men and women don't necessarily compete against each other, the physical challenges of triathlon (endurance) narrow the gap to a degree that is smaller than running. The women are closer to the front of the pack here than in running events. I've also seen a more-even balance of women and men in the transition areas. If I'm wrong, please feel free to correct me. This is an observation from my experiences so far.

Still, when it's time to train, it's ideal for men and women to remain separate...unless it's an easy day for the guys and the women are in the mood to hammer. One of the Carmichael Training Systems coaches wrote about the hazards of men and women training together; she mentioned that while she was looked highly upon by her male training-mates, she was more fatigued and in danger of overtraining because she was hammering all of her rides.

I was listening to an interview with Desiree Ficker (BTW, is that her on the Inside Triathlon mag cover?) on a Competitor Radio podcast; she talked about "dropping the bomb" (ramping up the pace) during a workout or a race, as well as her male training-mates' fears of "getting chicked." I started to laugh when I heard the term, but it seems she's not the first person to use it.

So, are men fearful of getting beaten by women? I can say yes, beyond a doubt. Men don't want to be beaten in a race, much less in a training run. And it doesn't matter if the woman is a better athlete; the male (highly-fragile, easily-bruised) ego REFUSES to accept the (often-painful) fact that a woman, or any woman, can or will be better than him at anything. On the other hand, I've had one or two female athletes who didn't know the meaning of "this is training, not a race..."

One was truly a mentally-tough athlete who refused to quit, ease up or slow down. My coach and I had a lengthy talk about it once, where he reminded me that I am much the same: It would take realizing a bone was sticking out of our leg before making the decision to quit. Funniest thing, though, when I talked to her about it we both agreed that we would have asked a question on realization: "Whose bone?" Checking her heart rate in between sets was always entertaining...I could NEVER, ever, ever get her to think about recovery. However, she would be one of the first persons I'd call upon if I were putting an event team together, because I knew she'd give 110-percent without fail.

Some guys just are not smart enough to accept feminine advice. My wife is the kind of runner who can go for miles and miles at a nice, steady, aerobic pace and rarely fluctuate from it. I can't run with her because she's slower than I, though. I've tried before and hurt myself too badly. However, she's gone out on long runs with a couple of older gentlemen, who immediately drop the Fickeresque "bomb" at the beginning of the run, then die at six miles...not a good sign if you're preparing for a marathon. I've tried to tell the guys to go out at Suzanne's pace in order to get those eight to ten miles in without dying prematurely. I have the feeling I sound like John Belushi in Animal House every time I hear how hard they went out at the start and how bad they died at the end: '...you think they'd listen to me, but noooooooooooooo...'