The Not-Always-Ten-Percent Rule

Some seven months ago, my achilles' tendon gave me the impossible-to-ignore message that marathon training could soon be its undoing. Since then, I've encouraged myself to look more critically at several different aspects of my training. I'm looking not so much because I want to complete another marathon, but because I want to continue running. Walking with a minimal limp (from bones broken almost three decades ago) is a plus.

It's meant, at least for me, some changes to my workout schedule...some ways in form, but mostly in duration.

I firmly believe in the ten-percent rule; the rule (of thumb) which states no increase in distance, intensity (which I look at as average heart rate over time) or duration for an exercise activity should be more than ten percent over the measure of the previous three-to-four week period. There are several coach/author-types who have published this same belief.

But not all coaches agree. My friend Patrick McCrann is one of the few who openly disagrees. He writes that increases of any sort need not necessarily be at the "rigid" ten percent point. Some times it can be more; other times less. What is important, in his mind, is to adjust the stress once the body adapts to it, then keep it there until the adaptation is complete.

I understand his thoughts on the subject. Since we are all an experiment of one, we adapt to stressors, and the change of those stressors, in varied ways. Two eight-minute milers can run on a flat course for 30 minutes at a time and perhaps both feel the same physiological benefit/stress that we can measure (heart rate, respiration, fatigue, just to name a few) during that ~3.75-mile jaunt. Add three minutes to that run and one of the two may walk around the next day with aching joints; the other might be "itchy" for more distance.

Naturally, we can't isolate all of the factors which could cause differences in adaptation. Not without putting an entire population in isolation. If we could I am most certain there are entire populations we would prefer to isolate...most likely not our own.

When making those changes in stress, it's important to keep static as many of the other variables as possible for at least three weeks. If your body responds in a less-than-desired fashion, like an injury, it's probably a good idea to back off the stressor until the injury subsides. Injuries are usually the body's way of saying "I am not able to adapt to this much stress." Stay at that level for three weeks, then increase or change the stress as tolerated.

A little imagination, and close attention to your body's response to stress, is key to increasing mileage, duration, or intensity in your training plan.

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.

Taking A Pulse

Every once in a blue moon I try to take the pulse of the folks who have trained with me at the track at one time or another over the past couple of years (and sometimes longer). I've asked for e-mail feedback, put my phone number out there, and pretty much maintained as close to an open door policy as can be expected. This time, I figured a survey would put numbers out there, or at least provide a degree of anonymity to the folks who felt the need to say something constructive without fear of retribution.

Lessons learned:

1. Anonymity does not guarantee response constructivity. Some enjoy the opportunity to take pot-shots behind the cloak of anonymity. Even if you made changes/improvements it wouldn't change their opinion of you, and they probably wouldn't come back to train.
2. Rick Nelson was (and still is) right. Those of you who are old enough to remember Rick's last hit (in his long hair stage!), Garden Party, know the tag line: 'You can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself.' Not every coach is a good fit for an athlete. Not every training program is going to work for every athlete. Read a Carmichael Training Systems press release, and they talk about training 5-time IM champion Peter Reid. However, when interviewed by Bob Babbitt and Paul Huddle, after retiring from active competition, Reid mentioned he and CTS were (ultimately) not a good fit. So, you have to figure it out for yourself whether the training plan or the coaching is a fit. If it's not, then move on and chalk it up to a mismatch.

3. Sometimes you might be an influence, but not the influence. Several athletes I coached intermittently (because of outside constraints) have credited me (to my face!) with their recent personal successes (e.g., qualifying for and completing the Boston Marathon, completing one/more Ironman/70.3 triathlons). When they tell me, I am honored and humbled; those moments make the efforts worthwhile. However, I tell all in earshot it was their own hard work making success possible. To paraphrase Paul of Tarsus, when citing successes in his church work in Asia Minor: '...I planted...Apollos watered...God gives the increase.'

One respondent asked (as far as I can tell) how I keep track of athletes with highly divergent ability levels. I try to track where everyone is in their training without micro-managing. I ask for individual goals and goal races every six months or so, but I am past the point of worrying about a lack of administrative detail (e.g., no six-month goal, no goal race, and so on). The athlete who wants to communicate their goals to me, does. Otherwise, it's safest for me to presume their racing schedule is constrained by the local calendar, which means they'll be doing a lot of 5,000-meter, relatively flat road races.
One good reason I don't go micromanaging a particular training plan (unless its my own) is because I've offered to help draw up a plan, including work outside of the track. Lots of folks, especially recreational runners, don't want to commit 9-11 hours of their life each week to running. They like listening to music on the beach on Tuesday nights, going to the downtown concert on Thursday nights, sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday mornings.
And I understand that. I don't want to do it, but I understand it. I try very hard not to consider those persons who choose to have lives outside of running as children of a lesser god. It's possible I will have a life outside of running; for now I choose to live it vicariously through them. And, by golly, they need to do a better job of it (just kidding!).
If Ethan Barron, the XC/track coach at Tufts, were sitting with me over coffee, I think he would remind me, 'respect yourself, then do your best. Acceptance by others should never outweigh those two things.'

Hammer Time!

Tempo run of seven miles yesterday at the beach. The group - which includes most of our team officers, several of our active membership, and not a few of our former members (who I graciously classify on my nicer days as alumni) meets every Wednesday evening at 6:00 to run anywhere from four to six miles, then eat, drink and be merry until they can't stand it any longer...or the management kicks them out.

I've used the treadmill for the majority of the summer because it has been too d@mned hot to get any quality mileage in otherwise...at least while I was healthy enough to run (so maybe there was a good side to breaking my arm!). Two weeks ago I went to the beach to do a six-mile tempo and completely exploded in a blaze of glory at the three-mile point. BRAAP! Back to the treadmill for a couple of more weeks, Coach Mike. I bumped up the pace on the treadmill runs to ~6:44/mile, taking a three-minute cool-down cycle between each mile. Then, I decided to extend the tempo repeat from 1 mile to 1.2 miles, so I got the mileage in five pieces, vice six. That's three less minutes of easier running/jogging/walking, too.

We were talking about the beach loop the other night, and Scott, my assistant and club secretary mentions something in passing about the six-mile loop being only 5.8 miles. I almost asked him, 'says who?' We've never really measured a course out there, and I have little love for GPS wearers and their complete dogmatic trust (dependence?) on that gadget. I have to admit I'm not as violently opposed to them as I was in the past, and I would use one if it were given to me (Note to my loving wife: no, I really do not need a GPS, not unless it does the street navigation, too.) by a company wanting someone to wear-test. Dude, if there's anyone who can destroy a piece of technology with just casual, everyday use, it's me. Ask Nike; that's why they are no longer in the MP3 player market.

I probably could have used one last night, though, to run the tempo run. I have a good idea where the two-mile point on the course is located, so I figured what I would need to add on in time duration (ten minutes) to lengthen the 5.8 mile loop run into a 7-mile tempo run. Hammer ten more minutes (five out, five back), on top of what I guessed would be a 40-to-41-minute run normally and voila! Done.

Well, I went out at a comfortable (7 minute/mile) pace for the first two miles. Who knew I would pick up the pace that much after two? Who knew I would race the sun coming back? Who knew I'd run 49:34 for 7.8 miles!? That's a little bit fast (ya think, Coach?) for a tempo run. That's about 20 seconds faster than my average pace for a half marathon.

However, I tend to run on feel, not on gauges. When I had a Suunto POD and heart rate monitor, I spent a lot of time looking at the data rather than running more by feel. That's the liberty of going by physiological markers, especially after you've done enough training. Translates well into racing and you don't have to worry about if or when the technology bites the big one (like the Suunto did)...Murphy's Law...and it goes wrong after you become dependent on the technology.

Working that hard makes it interesting the morning after, especially if you're doing any kind of cross-training or you have a real daytime job. When our organization provided employees the option of working flexible work schedules; the kind where you do your 40 hours of weekly work over the course of four days, or your 80 hours of a pay period over the course of nine, I decided immediately it was not for me. Sorry, boss. I'm a creature of habit, and I coach. I have places to be in the early afternoon, and I like having not to worry about taking two hours of annual leave in conjunction with a federal holiday.

Besides, I'd rather do 80 percent of the something my boss and my other 'eight days a pay period' co-workers are doing each day.