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.

If Mama Ain't Happy

So far I've been fortunate. The holiday season usually finds Suzanne and/or me nursing a bug of some kind by the week after Christmas...and by the first week of the new year at the latest. The difference, I think, is we followed a different schedule; spent time with people we normally do not see, did less than we felt we had to.

I used my mildly sociophobic tendencies as a lame excuse to try and keep myself healthy this season. My wife considers my sociophobia a load of bologna; I'm not so much sociophobic as I am socially-inept. The one edge of the proverbial two-edged sword was I did less social functions, saving me from needless exposure to stress and illness. The other edge was Suzanne was occasionally a little less-than pleased.

However, it's easier to make her happy when I decide to "hide." It's not always cheaper than the drugs, but it's easier on me than spending a miserable week on the couch in my warm-ups watching ESPN.

So, when Eric and I talked running during a Christmas social I had to remind him of the old Southern dictum: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

Why would I bring up something so simple, especially when talking about running?

Most folks, knowingly or unknowingly, make some sort of commitment for the new year. Some call them resolutions. Others call them goals. Eric's goal is to complete a marathon in the future. He runs a few miles here and there, and we hit the trails once or twice a month with the local hash, so he's not a couch potato.

I first applauded Eric's ambition and his moxie, then began asking (like any good coach) a few gentle questions. "So, how many hours do you have free to train?" Eric deals with a full-time job, occasional travel demands, and Ashley. Ashley is Eric's wife. She works and is a college student. When he told me the (small) number of hours he had available I recommended he set a few interim goals, based on a shorter distance event or two, considering the time at his disposal.

How many persons train for endurance events at the risk of strained marriages, missed family functions, irritated and infuriated employers, and frayed friendships? Does a marathon finisher medal or tattoo mend broken fences and burned bridges? Not hardly.

Some coaches use the term "spousal approval unit," which is a lot like the "emotional bank account" Stephen Covey writes about in his book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. If all the time we have available to train without adversely affecting those relationships which make the rest of our life rewarding is small, there's nothing in the world that can increase that period of time.

There are some efficiencies which can help us to recoup time:

We can sleep less. At least to a certain point; there's that fine thin line where we hinder our body's ability to recover from workout efforts.

We can cut back on time-wasting activities, either at work or at home.

We can maximize the time we have available to train by cutting back on "junk miles" and focus on quality efforts.

It's less expensive, physically, financially and emotionally, to "keep Mama (or Papa!) happy" than it is to press forward with an unrealistic training plan or goal event. What do you do to keep your family members happy when you're training for an event?

Wear(y)ing Of The Green

I got to see more than my fair share of green this St. Patrick's Day, when I awakened with the need to clear some accumulated gunk from my sinuses, throat and airway. I am not certain how you feel about breathing, but as a former childhood asthmatic I'm quite fond of the act, especially when I consider the many unsavory, often permanent, consequences of the alternative.

Rather than sit miserably at my office and risk passing whatever bug I might have to my three co-workers, something all-too-common with people who see themselves too indispensible to an organization's well-being, I'll sit miserably at home and risk passing it along to my wife and dog. Poor me, I get to listen to Miles Davis instead of the Diane Rehm Show today.

Suzanne says I probably shouldn't have run last night. There's a part of me which thinks she may be correct. But, it's more likely my gunky, junky throat comes from doing (running) business in a bar, where cigarette smoking is allowed, on Monday evening. Not the 90-plus minutes of easy running, walking and elliptical trainer which I did yesterday. I spent a little too long in a bar with some cigar smokers some months ago, and ended up with the same junky throat a couple of days later. It's a minor setback on the road to recovery, but I know what I did wrong. It's nothing that time (rest, if my dog decides to let me) and good over-the-counter drugs cannot cure.

Sometimes a health issue is an outcome, sometimes a correlation. And often a simple one. We look for the big solutions to what's killing us as a runner or athlete, when all it takes is looking at the smallest part of our daily routine; what we do, eat, drink, or inhabit the other 23 (or less) hours of the day we aren't running.

I'm not certain if that makes sense to the person inhabiting the very big world outside of my stuffy head, but it does me right about now.

Same Time Each Year

This ALWAYS seems to happen to me immediately right before the New Year.

Every year. Without fail.

My wife worries about it, reminds me to be careful & prepares accordingly. Still, the same thing happens to me. The first year we were together - a week before I went to San Diego (to run a marathon & work on the Navy base at Point Loma) for three months - was the worst.

Last Thursday morning was not nearly as bad, thank heavens. My alarm went off at 5, after a short tempo run the evening before, followed by a couple of beers. I woke with a nasty glob-like feeling & discomfort at the roof of my mouth. In spite of my best efforts to fight the histamine-based assault on my upper respiratory system over the next three days, my breathing this morning is not good. It's nearly impossible to run when your throat is clogged the same way as if someone shoved a running sock down your throat. So my "easy" 30-to-60-minute run this morning was replaced with a trip to Wal-Mart for more & better medications. Better to nurse a low-level upper respiratory infection for a few days than try to train through it & end up with a full-blown fever, like when I was training for San Diego.

I've learned in the past eight-to-ten years to say no to an excess of parties & social functions. I don't have a hard time doing that; I'm socially-inept at baseline. But some environments are closer to a petri dish than others - ask any schoolteacher. I can be mindful of my exposure risk, & try to mitigate accordingly. But, it still seems my closest friends & contemporaries will wear themselves down during the holidays, catch something...and pass it along to me.

So where is the line drawn between the "go for a run" decision, & the "curl up on the couch & watch Man v. Food" decision? The chin.

If you have got the sniffles or some congestion in the head, an easier run is not likely to kill you. If the congestion is in the chest (If you are using what are called the accessory muscles to help you breathe, the answer is "yes, it's in the chest."), I'd recommend watching Adam Richmond get stupid with 15-dozen oysters.

But in case you forget this by the next holiday season, I'll stock up on the Vicks VapoRub.

Please, Sir, Should I Have Some More?

Again, this is going to start with one of those 'so, there I was...' moments.

It was my first day back in the pool after taking about three days off...hacking up hairballs which would make my veterinarian friend's herd of cats (not necessarily the ones her husband herds on a daily basis) jealous can make you strongly consider that...and reconsider it after a hairball makes you shut a track workout down 30 seconds into your sixth 600-meter repeat the evening before...you think strongly about taking a few moments to breathe every so often.

So, there I was, catching my breath at the same time as a friend of mine in the next lane. She turned to me and said, 'I need to get you to help me get faster on the run. I have a 16-miler this weekend.'

I said, 'I take it you're about six weeks out from a marathon.'

She said, 'Yep! Good guess.' I'm a coach. I usually can figure this out.

Her concern is that she lacks raw speed for the marathon. Naturally, her point of view is that she needs more mileage & more volume in order to ensure a stronger finish to the marathon. Since she's finished a couple of marathons she understands fairly well what works for her.

At that point, I played devil's advocate, or better yet...voice of reason.

'There has to be a balance. And when I talk about balance I mean it in several areas: What you're looking for is not necessarily an increase in speed as much as not slowing down in the later miles of your marathon - beyond twenty - compared to the former ones. That means a balance of a long run at desired marathon pace, what I like to call a semi-long run at desired marathon pace, & a 50-50 mix of shorter pieces at higher tempo or recovery pace...easy, peasy, lemon-squeezy stuff. That's the easy balance.'

'The more challenging balance is three-fold: First, longer distance races are more about strength, not raw speed. If you are going to focus on speed, then number two, you have to train hard enough to bring about the physiological adaptations which lead to faster running but not so hard you beat yourself up & end up injured.'

At that point she said, 'that's what the pool is for,' to which I nodded my head in agreement.

'Gotcha. Recovery is also a key, eating the right food at the right time, in the right quantity. Third, and I think most importantly, you have to take in account all the other responsibilities you have in your life. We are guilty of laying out a training plan in pen-&-ink rather than in pencil. You're a mother, a wife, a pathologist, & have other responsibilities which I don't know but can bet are fairly time-consuming.'

I then mentioned Coach Pat McCrann's book, Train To Live, Live To Train: The Ultimate Insider's Guide To Building The Ultimate Fitness Lifestyle, & explained to her she needed to think in terms of a baseline training week, as well as the amount of time she could squirrel away during a four-to-six-week build-up toward a goal event...whether it is a marathon or a triathlon, I don't think it makes much difference...

'Bottom line is that you need to do the right things without feeling guilty about being a bad mother, a bad employee or a bad person altogether. Let's begin by thinking about how much time a week you can train without checking your baggage for an extended guilt trip and move forward from there.'

She then thanked me and said, 'we should run Chicago together. I think you'd enjoy it.'

Just what every coach needs. Another woman to torment them over 26.2 miles.

When Things Come To A Head

Feels like the end of the tunnel has been reached, so to speak. In the past I've always managed to survive the stretch from Thanksgiving to right around Christmas without catching whatever nasty cold or flu or creeping crud was circulating. However, this year was a major change in the immunity, or susceptibility to the stuff, I guess. I don't think my training volume changed all that much this year, & it's not like I was over-fatigued from IM FL. But I got something before the holidays, pretty much the same cold/flu bug/crud (more like upper respiratory infection, head cold, low-grade fever kind of stuff) I have visit days after Christmas.

The timing was nearly perfect...and not so perfect; it all hit like a ton of bricks last week when I was scheduled for a general practitioner's appointment. Unfortunately, it stuck around & became more noxious through the weekend's tri club party/meeting - if the photos taken showed I looked like I rolled out of a sickbed to quaff a couple of beers, well, that's because I did. The bad news is I don't feel like doing anything that resembles exercise. The good news is I didn't have any major plans for this month, anyhow.

At least that's what my body is telling me. My mind, on the other hand...wanted to jump in on the weekend's masters' swim meet a couple of days back. Hey, it would have been warmer in the water than on the deck, but I doubted hacking a six-pound loogie at the end of the 800-yard freestyle would have been a pretty sight. Some times you have to be smarter than your desire.

So, other than a couple of brief walks around the park with the wife & the woofer, my exercise regimen has been limited to a single set of 12-ounce elbow bends each evening.

Plan out your holiday period as judiciously as you would plan any other training period. It's a time to spend with family, friends, co-workers, but make certain you don't run yourself directly into the ground. I make a conscious effort to decline invitations...as nicely as possible...if I feel the schedule has become too hectic. All the same, I try not to become too bunged up if I can't get everyone to show up at a single social function.

As for the training, it's a great time to run, bike or swim with people you normally wouldn't train. We've got local runs which occur at the same time as our track workout; I'm not one to give carte blanche & say, 'go ahead and run with that group,' but if the change of pace gives you a new perspective on your training...

The First Miles

Happy New Year to all of you - Ended my 2008 on a (fairly) good note, after two-to-three days of misery. The jury is still out, sort of, on what caused my 48 hours of GI un-fun-ness. I'm not ready to lay blame on a couple of food items I scarfed during the (post-) Christmas Luau; more likely the lingering effects of the flu bug I caught just before Christmas. It probably was the flu or some viral fiend, because I was still kind of feeling it even this past weekend.
The New Years' Day Pot Luck Run at our local running emporium was good fun, with some of the usual suspects on board, but a higher tri-geek-to-runner-geek ratio going down. Since we spent the prior evening at a runner-hosted New Years' Eve celebration, it's probable some of the possible participants of the next day's running event were, er, overserved.
The run was led out by one of the running emporium's employees, a nice (sliver over) three-mile, rolling jaunt. With sunny skies, a temperature in the high 50s & a very gentle breeze, there was not much to complain about...especially the obvious fact we live in FL & can go out for a run without YakTrax, three layers of tights, a balaclava from hell, etc., etc., nearly any time we please throughout the year. In fact, most of the holiday season was temperate, shirt-sleeve and/or (in my case!) short pants conditions.
The bug & its effect on my fitness level made the jaunt entertaining. I felt, throughout the entire run, like a Thor-Lo sock had been shoved down my windpipe. However, running a seven-minute-per-mile pace and sucking sock didn't seem like such a bad thing, given the realm of possible alternatives. A year ago I was in pain from achilles' tendon injury. Yes, silly, keep it all in perspective. Hit the track for the first real piece of track work on Saturday morning. I took most of December's workouts & made them long, boring, meat & potatoes stuff. It was a lot of mileage but at an intensity level (most of the time a 7:30-8:00/mile pace) that made it possible for everyone to hang closer together & semi-socialize. Not like any of us had any races coming up...save for Ferris, who was approaching a taper for his marathon & would benefit from something that easy in pace.
Since I was doing a solo workout it was going to be a relatively no-nonsense one. I wanted to see how many miles I could get in the course of an hour, from warm-up to shut-down. I managed to get in five miles worth of running in 31 minutes with 27 minutes of recovery time. Seemed like a good start to the year...at least until I tried to do my swim workout & cramped up in the pool. I managed to get 2400 yards (a good day!) in a little over 47 minutes, so it wasn't a total loss...more like the first of many lessons learned this year.
The challenge to doing two workouts during the course of a day is providing sufficient time for recovery, which includes nutrition & hydration. Several cups of coffee & a bagel with provolone cheese & hummus, as I learned, is a little on the light side when it comes to both nutrition & hydration.

Night Is Drawing Nigh, 2008 Version

Well, it took a couple of days longer than I hoped. But I finally got my fruitcake. It might sound insane for a guy who values physical fitness, exercise, & prudent dietary choices to like...even long for...something as inherently unhealthy as a fruitcake. However, I'm the type of person who looks at the dietary information posted on the back of the package: 'Hm...if this fruitcake is four servings, and each serving is 400 calories, then I can have...' So, I justify my personal snacking habits as long as my total calories per day, less the number of calories I've burned (boiled?) in the workouts, is right around 2,000.
And my snacking goes in cycles, from good snacking to bad snacking. If I can limit myself to the once-monthly bag of gummi bears, things are fine. It's when I start jonesing after those apple pastries I find near the coffee section of convenience stores I find the chubbiness factor begin to rise.

Suzanne & I spent our Christmas holiday in the "traditional" Bowen manner; sleeping in (a challenge in itself, since the d-a-w-g awakens to the alarm on my running watch), taking a long morning walk, reading, drinking coffee, watching classic flicks on the toob or going to the movies (a doubleheader - Lawrence of Arabia and Marley & Me), and...a recent and new tradition...going out for Chinese.

I almost congratulated myself for getting through this year with a minimum of illness & beat-down, but the holiday @$$ kicking bug caught up with me not once, but twice. I ate something I had absolutely no reason to be scarfing out on at a holiday luau. Enough said. The bad news was it meant two (possibly three) days of no training. The good news was I didn't feel like eating too much outside of very simple foods; half a turkey sandwich here, a bowl of soup there, a couple of bagel chips...blah, blah, blah.

Back to work...not too much excitement around here at the end of the year. Probably will spend more effort blowing excess stuff out of my computer...probably something I should do to the one at home, too. It's amazing how much stuff we accumulate; with computers it's not only paper-based, but also digital. Could someone please slow down the madness?

A Certain Cure For Wimpiness

All right. I made it to Friday, a day I decided (once I figured I had leave hours to burn before end of year) to take off. The original plan was to take next Friday, the day after Christmas...and the Friday after that, the day after New Years' Day...but since the Pres'dent graciously permitted us to have December 26th off...

I somehow managed to throw a big, honkin' monkey wrench into my holiday season training schedule (which at this time consists of maintaining a schedule!), catching a bug at work. It's not often you can tell the exact moment you catch that infection or cold...but I was sitting in a meeting with a bunch of other training personnel. I tend to gnaw on wooden toothpicks at meetings; it helps me to keep my mouth shut & provides me something with which to stimulate my gums...if not my mind...during the mindless moments. I suddenly felt this tickle, like that when you swallow something you probably shouldn't have. After that, it was all downhill.
By the time I got off work I was draining like a tap, sneezing & miserable. I had to go to the track for the workout, but there was no way I was going to be able to run. Ever have one of those days when you prayed for a massive torrential downpour? That's how I was feeling. I did not want my athletes to see me in the state of misery I was in. I gave them their workout, then drove back home to curl up on the couch with a bowl of soup & some drugs.
The next morning felt no better. In fact, I searched in vain to find the man who spent the entire night beating me with a rubber mallet. If not for the fact my time card had been processed I would have taken a sick day...because I don't have a dead day.
If not for the visit of a friend of mine, the unit chaplain, at 10 o'clock, I would have been miserable for the entire day. However, sometimes the proverb (a merry heart does good, like medicine) does have full effect. My agnosis was temporarily shelved by Ed's (self-described) ministry of presence. Thanks, Ed. You are a true mensch.
After that point in time, the recovery seems to have begun. I'm still a little wobbly on the pins; better today than yesterday...perhaps enough to do a very easy swim (think I'll work on my flip turns, since I found a good instructional clip on viddler.com).
I've added a link this morning to a video I found on viddler. I've seen it also on YouTube, but viddler has better picture quality, in my humble opinion. Once again, I'm not one to harbor a great deal of religious belief, having much to do with recovering from ten years in a fundamentalist (near-cult) church. But two things stand out in this video: The love of father to son, & the will of both father and son to succeed somehow. Ironman? Who Knew?
The video of Dick and Rick Hoyt is filed in my list of favorites & stands as a certain cure for my wimpiness. I'm almost together; give me one more day before you tell me to suck it up & drive on.
See you at the track, on the road, & in the pool. Oh, Happy Holidays.