Not Too Far To Walk Back

It's great to be able to link up with many of my fellow run enthusiasts and classmates by way of social media.  Every once in a while I hear a doozy:

"u know what the trouble with jogging is...by the time you realize you're not in shape for it, it's too far to walk back."  I'm not that shocked to hear a statement like this coming from a fellow Baby Boomer.  Most of my high school companions, including the sporty ones, would consider themselves to be - unlike Sir Paul McCartney - more than the man they used to be.  Even though, if asked to judge our health on a 1-to-100 scale, we would most likely give ourselves a score in the 70 range, I'm starting to see some around my age "leave" in ones and twos.  An insurance company-sponsored survey of 1,800 persons, ranging in age from 25-to-64, found folks my age more likely to define "healthy" as visiting the doctor and filling the necessary check in the block on the questionnaire each year...and the requisite bodily fluid work-up, etc.
Only one in five of us would say we're doing something to "look good in our underwear," such as a regular exercise routine.  And when it happens, it's more likely to be because we've got a goal staring us in the face; men usually tie it to an endurance event, such as a marathon...women to a wedding or reunion.

Like any 12-step program, the first step to working through the problem is admitting the problem exists.  Lots of Boomers invested the lion's share of their time and effort on raising families and developing careers.  Now that we've begun to have more time to do other stuff we receive the sudden and frightening message that we're not as fit as we were when we were in high school or university.  How do we get back to where we once belonged?  First of all, like our generation is more likely to inform the Gen-Xers and Millennials, we need to not sweat the small stuff. 

If I were going to go back and develop a running habit from the outset I would start with finding a loop course, just big enough to traverse that I felt like there was a level of accomplishment, but not so large that I couldn't do it in five minutes or so...so we're talking probably something in the range of 600 or 700 meters; no bigger than half a mile around.  Grass and packed dirt would be fantastic, but an asphalt bike path will do in a pinch.  Start by doing one minute of running, followed by walking until you're ready to run one minute again.  Do this for at least 30 minutes, every other day for three weeks. 

Test yourself at the three-week point:  Run for as long as you can without stopping.  Divide that time by three; make that the new "run" time.  Once you get to the point where you can run comfortably for thirty minutes you can start to add on time here and there as your body tolerates it.  Have fun with it; alternate hard running with easy running, easy running with brisk walks.  There are many benefits of running for time rather than for distance.  Unless you're in the surveying (or course measurement) business, a second is a second everywhere in the world (great for those persons who do a lot of traveling), and your heart and lungs will gain the same benefits whether you're doing three or five miles in a thirty minute span. 

And if the heat and/or humidity happens to be an obstacle, treadmills can be the best alternative.  I know people who despise treadmills with a passion, but I like the ability to control almost all of the potential variables which can affect exercise performance, namely air temperature, surface hardness/softness, elevation and speed (I'll include the ability to immediately stop the run, live to fight another day,should something begin to hurt badly.).  And if you're at a gym facility where there's lots of traffic, often the scenery isn't only limited to what's on the television screen.  To make certain you're not going at too quickly a pace during the run pieces, I would running the "talk test" during the first bout on the belt - start at five miles per hour.  Can you talk to yourself, or a person next to you, in complete sentences?  Bump up the speed a notch.  check yourself after a minute.  When you find the sentences are shorter, or you can't finish it without taking a deep breath you've probably found the right pace.  The walk recovery pace is not a problem; set it for anywhere between three and four miles per hour and you'll be fine.

Some persons say that treadmill running is not the same as running on the roads or trails, and they are correct, but in very small ways.  Other than wind resistance, there's not much difference between how our body reacts to running on a moving belt and how it reacts on a gravel road, or dirt trail, or rubber track.  Purists can kick the elevation on the treadmill up one notch just to make it feel more like you're working into a self-made breeze.

So don't fret if you're a boomer who's started to worry if they'll ever be able to regain lost fitness, or wants to drop weight, lower the risk of obesity-related diseases.  As long as you remain patient at the start, consistent through the process, and progressive in adding intensity once your body begins to tolerate the new (or renewed) stressors, it's never too far a walk back to a fit lifestyle.

Joggers? Welcome!

I showed up at the beach run last night to see a good friend in the parking lot. Ron had just returned from a six-week sojourn in Michigan. After the requisite insults and innuendo we started our trek on the six-mile loop, at a mutually-agreed upon pace; laughable for him, comfortable for me. I knew he was going to want to talk about his time in the Great White North, so the pace was soon to become one where I could speak little.

We initially joked about the weather conditions, which explain why I live in the South...

Ron: "I was scraping ice off my window two days ago."

Me: "The only glass. I want ice to touch. Is one filled. With unsweetened tea. Or an adult. Beverage of choice. Depends on time of day."

Ron then told me about a couple of track workouts he ran with a local running group, and the running club affiliated with the (multinational) company for which he was briefly employed.

"They said, 'oh, we have some really fast runners in this group. One of our guys ran a (blank)-minute 5K.' I went out running with him twice. The dude was a hockey player; in decent shape, but not really fast." Having seen his rear at more than my share of road races I know what Ron defines as "fast."

I responded, "Gee, thanks, Ron. Glad you're being. Nice to me. Since I haven't. Run that time. For 5K. Since my injury." At least he didn't call me "fat." Or a "jogger."

What is a jogger? Why is there this insulting connotation to a term which, to the majority of runners, seems as nebulous as a presidential definition of sex?

The English language has used the term "jog" to talk about movement (running included) since at least the mid-16th century. Arthur Lydiard made "jogging" popular in New Zealand during the early 1960s; fitness and sociability seemed to be the rationale for very easy running (defined by UK-based running coach Mike Antoniades as a pace slower than 10 minutes per mile). Bill Bowerman, coach of Steve Prefontaine, literally "wrote the book" on jogging and its benefits, way back in 1966.

The running philosopher Dr. George Sheehan, in 'Running and Being,' wrote "the difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank." If you started running because of an event put on by a running club, or you joined a running club which didn't exist before 1962, you most likely owe your running habit (obsession? routine?), and perhaps a word of thanks, to a jogger.

So where and why does the arrogance toward joggers exist in the running community? From what I've observed it certainly isn't the elite or former elite road racers who harbor such animosity, pity or contempt. One usually needs to look a little farther back in the pack than the elites, a little closer to the point where the bell curve starts to rise. These are the guys/gals who (often) didn't quite win the genetics, training, coaching, recovering or incentivizing lotteries...or didn't buy the ticket...and prefer to tell how good they could have, would have, should have been...and how others will never be.

In their mind, THEY are runners. Everyone else behind them are just joggers.

I've engaged in such arrogant behavior in the past. I've also been called out for it. There are values, assumptions and closed beliefs, bordering on the edge of dogma, which exist in the mind of the "jogger haters."

They (falsely) assume other persons are not exerting the effort they are, therefore they lack the desire and are "children of a lesser god." Boy, was I disabused of this assumption by my loving wife, a long time ago. She took me to task one night after a track workout, saying, "Michael, just because we're running our quarters a minute slower than you are doesn't mean we aren't working hard. Believe me, we are."

The value system also is different. "Real runners" consider their title earned because they are faster on race day. They consider themselves superior to those pitiable souls who are still plodding about on the course as they reach for their first post-race beer. Their medals, beer glasses and coffee mugs were hard-won, and sometimes, considered to be their right: Why go five-deep at a race? It's only the first three in the age group who should be lauded.

Then, there's the near-religious dogmatic belief that one particular training group, training plan, workout, magazine, shoe or nostrum is guaranteed to make a better runner. "If you really wanted to improve as a runner you would do exactly what I do, or train with my group, or do this particular workout. Because you don't I can only guess you are lazy or unmotivated." This point of view has probably been the most difficult for me to get past as a group coach. I have learned over time there are more viable obstacles than strictly:

1. "Parentism," the nearly-two-decade extension of the state of maternity
2. Education
3. Work, and
4. Citizenship.

I've heard excuses, and I've heard rationales over the past six years. After that period of time you smile, shake your head, and continue to promulgate an "open door" policy.

I only hope, on that "invisible door" of my life, there's a sign posted for all to "see:"

Joggers Welcome.

Juggling (Tasks) and Jogging: Just Jabber No

Somewhere around the second mile of the Turkey Day Five-Miler, I was cruising my way through a very large pack of joggers & walkers. I just passed a gentleman, one of many participants wearing a pair of headphones on the run. A second or two later I heard his voice behind me:

'Hey, I'm in the middle of a race right now & listening to music. Can I call you back later?'

Later that afternoon, our friends Betsy & Aaron invited us over to watch Thanksgiving Day football games, eat a light dinner & catch up on what has happened in the three months since our last visit. Betsy asked how we fared on our drive along Interstate 10; her son "Speedy" recently made his first drive on I-10 without knowing to B.Y.O.B. - Bring Your Own Boogie. The stretch of interstate between Mobile & Slidell can be entertaining & mind-numbing. My first trip eight years ago proved compact discs & MP3 players are necessary to maintain driver sanity. However, the youngster has not yet acquiesced to his parents' taste in music. Betsy said "Speedy" called during the drive on his iPhone, complaining about the dearth of entertainment on the airwaves.

You live; you learn, youngster.

Many persons complain about the need to get away from it all. What surprises me more is when the very same people bring it all (and I do mean 'all') with them by way of their smart phones & music players.

I do not completely disagree with them. The smart phone, nowadays, can be the next best thing to a training partner who knows where to go, what to see, & how to get back to where you left the car when it's all said & done. Don't forget the ability to take photographic & videographic proof of where you've been so as to make friends who decided to sleep in or stay home green-eyed with jealousy. There are hazards involved with listening to music on the run which have mostly to do with volume & situational awareness. But, I wear them in the gym for treadmill work & solo long runs because they keep me from thinking about the pain I'm inflicting on my body. I know the risks of my immediate environment & keep my jams down to a low roar.

On race day, however, I leave them in the car. Having your favorite tunes in your ears from start to finish of a race is one thing, but the multitasking thing - listening to music, checking electronic mail, taking phone calls & texting your friends - is best left for the office. The race course - and the jogging path - is the place to get away from the world's stressors, not to catch up with them because you have 50-to-60 minutes to spare. Because, really, many of us don't do even one thing all that well.

My wife thinks she does a great job at multitasking. I keep telling her she is not among the two percent of what psychologists call "supertaskers," those who are truly able to accomplish two tasks simultaneously with nearly the same level of quality. I'm willing to admit she's able to switch between some tasks in a rapid manner, which is what most people mistakenly identify as multitasking. However, there are unlatched doors, half-screwed-on lids, lost & subsequently replaced identification & credit cards which bear witness to her - and many people's - low threshhold of task switchability.

Once again, an honest admission: My level of task switchability is very low. I've tried to justify it on the grounds of visual impairment, but it's my lack of ability to pick out my wife from a large crowd before or after a race. Any of my running friends will tell you my most common post-race question is not "how did I do?" Most often it's "have you seen my wife?" The executive system in the frontal lobe of my brain, most often, is looking for a strawberry blonde woman in a blue sweat top. Darned if she didn't ditch her sweat top in the car & put on a white hat.

So for me, task juggling is absolutely out. When I train my mind is on the training. When I race my mind is on the race. If I decide to look for my wife before the start, like this last week, odds are good I'm going to be stuck back in the back of the pack. Behind the joggers. Behind the walkers. And behind the multitaskers who decided their wife couldn't cook the turkey without their help via cellular phone.

That should teach me to not worry about my wife's whereabouts until it's time to go home. Besides, I know she'll be close to the beer truck.

You Should Be Dancing

Yesterday was the first two-workout day since the triathlon. At first, I was impatient about waiting for Suzanne to get off work; she wanted to run while I jogged. Since hindsight is not only perfect but magnified it wasn't such a bad idea: I'd have hammered six to eight miles in the mid-80-degree heat and hated myself this morning, rather than jogged four miles at 10-minute-per mile pace...and hated myself this morning. For me, yesterday, the operating word was easy run. Man, the term 'easy' anything is hard to deal with. I've tried to amble, ramble, saunter, shuffle, jog at Suzanne's pace before, with disastrous results. It hurts to run much slower than you're capable of running. But it was fun.

As a form of gratitude, she took me to Beef O' Brady's for a bite and a beer. We ended up chattering about family stuff, both her side and mine, while keeping an eye peeled on the hockey and baseball. She saw Dancing With The Stars briefly on the toob, but then the fine people at Beef's changed the channel. I'll admit I've watched all of one episode of Dancing, while Suzanne was out of town. It was one of those lost-weekend-sit-with-the-dog-make-noises-and-channel-surf moments I get so few of...thank God. Doesn't matter who is on there...I don't want to watch another installment. One more piece of evidence that makes my pet project, The Endurance Channel, seem like a good thing.
Kind of how I felt after the MSNBC thing this weekend. Once again, I loved watching the womens marathon trials, but I had my heart set on the mens triathlon trials. All I could sense was a warm drizzle, and it was a sunny day where I was sitting. Ugh.
If you're into road racing, any track and field event longer than 800 meters, or triathlon of nearly any length, I think you can get behind my complaint. It doesn't matter whether it's college, professional or Olympic sport, the commercial value seems pretty well nonexistent. More often than not, you get commentary from Al Trautwig, telling you 'go out to your neighborhood school track and try to run 12 laps, at 64 seconds for each lap'. Dude, most of the American teevee-viewing public would rather down 12 cans of light beer at 64 seconds a can. I do like Al Trautwig, though. He gets better every year through working the Tour De France with Bob Roll, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen. American broadcasters would do well to spend some time working with the European networks in order to learn the finer points of sports commentary, especially vis-a-vis endurance sport. Who knows, we might learn a little something about endurance sport; other nations do this too. Wow. What a concept.

Ah. It's probably good I don't have any of those skills. I do get the occasional coach me for a month before I have to run my physical fitness test so I can drop five minutes off my 1.5-mile run time requests, but no offer of kissing as compensation...thank God.