Better Living Through Chemistry?

Suzanne and I were on the west coast...of Michigan, last week, for our son's wedding.  We were changing into our fine attire and lacing up our tennis shoes - a 'fashion statement' if you're not a runner; otherwise it's another day in rubber soles - when Suzanne asked, "do you have any ibuprofen?"

"Well, no," was my reply. 

When Suzanne and I travel, the first thing/s packed are (one or more pairs of) running shoes, shorts, socks, t-shirts, and my Garmin 310XT.  Whatever space I have in my luggage after that goes to "civilian" clothes once the personal care items, electronic device chargers, reading materials and drugs are tucked away.  This was not a "typical" road trip for me; I did not plan on running, therefore I did not expect to endure (my) "typical" running-related aches and pains.  Fortunately for me there was a store up the block from the reception hall, so I was able to grab up a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID) of choice, in this case ibuprofen. 

Suzanne can get pain relief from almost any over-the-counter NSAID (aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, or naproxen being the most common versions), whereas I am a little more picky.  I have to be.  I rummaged through the kitchen cabinet, desperately searching for ibuprofen last week, when Suzanne pulled out a box of "ibuprofen with diphenhydramine" capsules.  I graciously declined, and informed her that the Benadryl she offered along with the ibuprofen would make the ache go away to my satisfaction, but I would be on the couch for the afternoon.  Sometimes I'm anal retentive like that.  (One of the few times where my 14-year medical transcription career was beneficial after college.)

So why can some folks take any NSAID and others (like me) require a specific compound? 

When we do damage to ourselves the body begins to repair the damage through the inflammatory response.  This response involves the release of enzymes and chemicals which begin the restoration of damage...and transmit "it hurts when I do that" messages to the brain so we will stop doing what hurts.  NSAIDs are divided into two categories: selective inhibitors and non-selective inhibitors, based on the enzyme which is inhibited from production (and transmission), known as COX-1 and COX-2.  Inhibit the COX-1 enzyme too much and you run the risk of ulcers, stomach bleeding, and prolonged bleeding time.  Most of the over-the-counter NSAIDs are pretty much non-selective, which means they inhibit  both enzymes in varying degrees.  Selective inhibitors (all of which require a prescription) focus more closely on the COX-2.  Runners who might be taking drugs to thin their blood, or bruise easily might want to take an NSAID other than aspirin, since aspirin can slow the clotting of blood for 4-to-7 days, where other drugs only slow blood clotting for a few hours.

The best over-the counter NSAID for each person, like any training plan or shoe, depends on age, cause and severity of the pain, as well as what your stomach can tolerate.  After a week take the time to figure out if the drug helped ease the inflammation with no side effects.  A single-blind test of over-the-counter NSAIDs found naproxen gave greatest relief from pain, followed by aspirin and ibuprofen.

But NSAIDs do not heal pain, they decrease the inflammatory response and the pain messages sent to the brain.  No drug can replace the common sense factors of rest, analysis of what caused the pain, and correction of the causes.  After you figure out what happened then it's time to get back out on the road.

One Excuse Is As Good As Another

Even coaches suffer from demotivation, especially coaches who like bright, sunny mornings. I used to think seasonal affective disorder was a bunch of bologna until I spent an autumn in Chicago. September was great, the first half of October was pretty good. The last four weeks I spent in a deep blue funk, praying for sunshine that never seemed to come. So I guess that's one of the reasons I sat, grumbling, over a cup of coffee and a slice of toast with Nutella the other morning. Was I ready to go out and run with my wife and a couple of our friends? Not necessarily. The gray skies had me wishing for a pot of coffee and a thick book of mindless reading.

On top of this, my mood was not helped by the gentle, persistent ache in my ankles and feet. I raced a 10K the previous day. I commented about the previous day's exertions, saying something like "a tale of two 5Ks, one good and one bad." I ran the first half at my desired 10K pace, then realized my (5K) fitness did not transfer well to the (10K) distance. Rather than risk regression, or worse, reinjury, I shut down the effort on the return trip, adjusting the pace to a minute slower per mile.

Most "hobby joggers" (as some would judge by my performance) would be pleased with a 46-minute 10K. Most people (still) recovering from injuries would call it a good day. However, the ghost of race performances past can trouble the aging and rehabilitating runner. Really, I should be happy to be out on the roads and still running, right?

How many times do runners use a variety of excuses - some lame, others less so - to justify a performance that did not quite meet up to their expectations?

Some of the better excuses I like to hear sound a lot like these:

"I wore the wrong shoes." - In my humble opinion, one of the best and most valid. This excuse is more common with guys who keep half-a-dozen pair of running shoes, in varying states of life, around the house. I've put my singlet, extra socks, race belt, dry post-race clothes, and so on, in my bag the night before, left the house on the morning of the race with all my gear in my bag, but forgot the shoes in which I was going to race. So, I had to wear the pair of retired "kick-around" shoes which had no cushioning left. That's one of those 5Ks I wanted to get over with quickly; one that felt like it would take forever.

The only situation worse than to show up to the race with the wrong shoes is to show with no shoes.

"I wore too much clothing." - This is particularly true for less-experienced runners taking on longer-distance events. I've stood at marathon finish lines, five (or more) hours after the start, with temperatures twenty degrees above the optimum race day temperature. It scares me to see participants layered in tights and warm-up suits staggering toward the chute.

Less often heard is the converse; very few runners under-dress for the conditions. I'm one of those crazy persons who will race in a singlet, high-cut racing shorts, and a hat or gloves. This last weekend I used a pair of arm-warmers and felt good until the end...a little on the warm side because of the knit cap, though. And, strangely enough, there were at least two guys out shirtless in the 40-degree weather.

"It was too (hot/cold/windy/humid)." - Weather conditions happen. And in many cases, unless you're talking marathons, the entire field contends with identical factors. There's not much a runner can do, except train when and where the weather dictates. And don't forget to take advantage of tactics which involve the climate. There's no law that says you have to not draft behind a runner when you're traveling into the wind, right?

"I didn't hydrate/eat properly." In many ways runners are like charcoal grills. You can pile fuel for the burning and light a match, but sometimes, in order to burn fuel you have to have some tinder or an accelerant. Some runners can eat as little as a candy bar before a race; others have to hit the buffet table.

Then comes the issue of hydration, which can be screwed up in quantity or quality. Ask any runner who's had a "barley-based liquid dinner" the night before a race how they performed. Most - after a couple of aspirin - will tell you they would like to have had the previous evening as a "do-over." Beer has fewer carbohydrates than most of us care to admit.

"The course was too long/short." - I measure courses, so I hear this one more often than I care to admit. The fallacy behind this complaint lies in a couple of factors: First, the length discrepancy is most often described in terms of time, rather than in distance. Second, the persons who complain in terms of distance usually gauge it based upon a consumer-grade GPS receiver.

If I hear 'the course was (number) seconds long,' my hearing shuts off. If I hear 'my GPS said the course was...' I patiently explain to them the limitations of consumer-grade GPS receivers, the exact distance of the race course, and the protocols (often) used to measure. For thirty seconds. At which point their hearing shuts off.

"This was a training run." - This is not necessarily a bad excuse, in my opinion. At least, if you're a top-shelf runner in training for a big race somewhere down the line.

If you are in a situation where you pin a bib number on your shirt/top, or attach it to your race number belt, it's a race. I've always been of the opinion that one should not race unless one is race-ready.

Which is probably why I shouldn't have raced the other weekend. But sometimes we have to get out among our fellow runners and blow the carbon out of the exhaust pipes. Maybe the best thing we can do is be honest with ourselves and say, 'I'm out running, and whatever happens, happens.'

Certainly sounds a lot better than all the unsavory alternatives of not running, right?

Service With a Snarl/Blank Stare

After a week of waiting and the hope to expose our team's new logo/look to the masses, I have to admit I'm pleased and disappointed. The womens' gear looks great; both the singlet and the jogbra will get people's attention at the local races. Of course, there were folks who said to Suzanne, 'Oh, I didn't know you were going to do something like that...' She's gracious enough to not say anything publicly, but we both knew she sent out an e-mail to every woman who trains with the team, in fact, there were several team alumna who received the e-mail, too. There's the pleasure.

The disappointment was seeing my own singlet. Since the guy at the imprinter shop didn't take the time to READ THE FLIPPIN' (E-)MAIL, all I have on the front of my singlet is the abbreviation and the little running man...plus the web site URL. The back has the URL, too, but you'll never see it unless you're staring at my @$$. Yeah, it's that low on the singlet.

So, I went in and let the guy have it with both barrels. The only thing that kept me from engaging in a full-blown Tourette's Syndrome attack on his backside was the fact the t-shirts came out almost perfect. My vision was good on this one, for once.

So, now some of the UWF group (and one of the officers) has podium wear for upcoming races. This means they can hang out without looking like a drippy dog and risking the chance of catching a chill after a race.

A lesson learned through this particular situation; sometimes you just have to tell someone that their best effort was not good enough. It's taken a number of years for me to get this way, though. I've always been the type of person who wants everyone to be my friend (I have a hard time making friends, you understand...). Sometimes I say and do things in a state of mindlessness that p!$$@$ people off; I have to explain it's not a personal issue, only the fact they failed to meet my (sometimes way too high) standards.

First time I started to think about this was probably my first relationship after my divorce. The woman I was seeing had absolutely no qualms about sending a food order back if it wasn't right; I, more likely than not, will suck it up and eat lukewarm french fried potatoes at Applebee's. Now, I might not complain about a food order unless it's completely screwed up, but I will consider strongly whether to make a second trip into a particular establishment. My tolerance for failure is inversely proportional to the amount of cold, hard cash I'm spending, pretty much said.

It's amazing, though, to think how much we tolerate poor service and poor quality, from the snarly clerk at the convenience store who's ringing up our over-priced and exceedingly cheap American beer to the civil servant who charges us a $500 fee for the privilege of producing a local running event, yet makes us run all over the municipal building to every office to do her job. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?

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.'