Preschool Football

The runner's life requires discipline, sometimes the occasional denial of of life's more-pleasurable pursuits.  But when a Simon's football (you may call it soccer) match and a hash kennel (mis-)management meeting falls on the same afternoon as a workout, common sense states it's better to defer the task and make many (female) family members happy.  Because, like the old phrase says "when Mama (in this case, "Grammy" Suzanne...) ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." 

And this coach is all for happiness.

Four-year-old footballers, like Simon, do not naturally exhibit the same skills as the first-division professionals I've enjoyed watching for the past three decades, with the exception of the one kid who had the "crumpled on the turf" posture at the mouth of the goal down pat, which occurred immediately after the opposing team's score.  The match looked kind of like what happens when an order of french fries is dropped in the parking lot of a Burger King in Florida:  The french fries represent the soccer ball, the seagulls are the players.

So I laughed and cheered both sides for twenty minutes, and marveled at the fun the small fry were having; it was clear they were enjoying themselves.  What they were doing was - for their benefit - a simplified version of football, without corner kicks or offside rules.  Everybody played the entire game, and - save a few handball calls - no real fouls in spite of the two goal mouth dives from that one kid.

"You beat my husband up pretty good on Saturday," said the hash treasurer.

I explained that her husband was as much responsible for his own beating as I.  Suzanne concurred with my assessment of the situation, and suggested "hash cash" could keep him company at the next Saturday morning workout.

She said, "I just started a 'couch-to-five-kilometer' training program at the local running emporium, and all they do is tell us to 'go run.'  I was paired up with a guy who runs slower than I do, and I really don't feel like I'm getting any benefit out of it."

"You couldn't run any faster?"  I asked.

"No.  And what about nutrition?  What about core, stretching, and cross-training?  Sure, they gave us an information sheet, but I feel like I paid for something..."
"More prescriptive?"

"Yes."

"Tell you what I'll do." I said.  "Let's do dinner some Friday evening.  We can talk about all this and find out what you want to get out of a training program.  I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability, and point you in the right direction."

The "hash cash's" lament succeeded in winding me up in the manner of a cheap wristwatch, but, because I promised my wife I would not speak ill of local running impresari I made only weak comments.  It wasn't until the following morning as I was preparing for work - amazing what a hot shower (and Tina Turner's "Private Dancer...") can do for encouraging deep thoughts - that it all came to me.  The goal of a Cto5K program isn't that far removed from that of a recreational football program for four year-olds:  Minimize the hard stuff, maximize the fun.  So what if the other team beats you by two goals; everyone got to play, everyone got to chase after the ball, right?  And everybody on the sidelines were cheering for you, right?

In Kenny Moore's biography, Oregon coach Bill Bowerman considered running an act which was as easy as brushing ones' teeth.  Bowerman's protege' Bill Dellinger clarified that belief; running may have paralleled basic dental care, but training was like having ones' teeth cleaned for an hour each day.  It's bad enough that middle and high school physical education teachers, athletic coaches at all levels, and the military service have turned running from a joyous activity into punishment and drudgery.  Sometimes we need to take the activity and restore it back to it's most simple form of placing one foot in front of the other, repeatedly, for as long as we can enjoy it.  When a world record holder in the marathon (Alberto Salazar) recommends running no more than 30 minutes a day for five or six days out of the week, and adding other forms of exercise to build muscle strength and flexibility, there might be something to be said about why we run for longer than that duration.

We run because it makes us happy.  And if we aren't happy, and if we aren't running in a way that makes us happy...

Keep It Simple, Part II

“It can scarcely be denied that the supreme goal of all theory is to make the irreducible basic elements as simple and as few as possible without having to surrender the adequate representation of a single datum of experience.”  Albert Einstein (1879-1955), during a lecture, Oxford, June 1933

Einstein’s goal of achieving simplicity without loss of the necessary holds true, especially for runners.  Figure out the amount of data you absolutely need to track progress, after that it's simple to gradually acquire the stuff which works best, or to steer clear of the stuff which won't work at all.

First, let me explain that I’m not slamming brick-and-mortar running specialty stores.  If given the choice between a major retail sports store, a locally-owned/operated running specialist and an interlink-based provider I'd much rather deal with the guy who's paying local property taxes and hiring passionate young men and women from my town's high school or local college; someone who really has some skin in the game when it comes to the running community.  Usually that's a person who's going to do the right thing.  But you can tell when a shopkeeper has become too-mercenary when (new) runners toe the line at a local 5-kilometer race with a four-bottle hydration waist belt.

I have a love-hate relationship with the consumer grade GPS receiver.  As a course measurer I love to use the GPS to provide ballpark estimations of where my intermediate splits will fall on the race course, and to get latitude/longitude references in those rare instances when no permanent reference point exists.  The hatred comes when runners who have no understanding of the necessary technological limitations of the GPS try to tell me a course is "too long."  Upload a run to Google Earth and you'll see some places you never thought you could run.  Runners who do most or all of their workouts on a treadmill or a track most likely aren't going to need GPS devices; there are times I would dare to say that for most a GPS is little more than a very expensive running watch.  I've also played with running watches which used accelerometers those little pods attach to the running shoe and track how fast and how far you ran, without the need for all those satellites.  They're a little expensive and the batteries tend to die at the wrong time, but they're very reliable if all you need is distance and speed.  If all your courses are known distances, choose a running watch or a heart rate monitor. 

Good ballpark distance figures for runs on sidewalks, roadways, and now even trails can be mapped out on map programs like MapMyRun, GMaps Pedometer, the USA Track and Field "My Running Routes" program, and Google Earth (which requires a little more patience).  There are a few disadvantages to these programs:  When flat photographs are used to try and measure distance on a rounded surface (our world) there can be varying degrees of inaccuracy; a half-marathon course I measured last year proved this to be true.  As a plus, MapMyRun allows runners to track workouts they've run on a particular route, and even gives runners the ability to print out courses...if you purchase a membership.  Go on the cheap like me and you best be able to read what can best be called “gibberish.”  A race director sent me his MMR files last year and all the street names were “Asflkue Ib.”  And worse.

You'd rather not wear a heart rate monitor, you say?  My wife is one of the many who would agree with you.  Some folks don't like to have that fabric/plastic strap around their chest, especially guys who like to run shirtless (I like data, therefore I run with a shirt).  Those persons who still want to check their intensity every so often can purchase a watch which has finger contact plates; place the two fingers of the non-watch wearing hand (of course…) on the plates and the heart rate reading appears in seconds.  Runners who use fairly modern treadmills with heart rate equipment attached can most likely forego this and use the handrail plates, which are about as accurate as chest strap monitors. 

You Luddites can lay a couple of fingers along your carotid artery on the left side of the neck immediately after the run is completed, or gauge your effort on a scale of one to ten, where one aligns to ”am I awake?” and ten means ”if I take another step my chest will explode!”  Some of the really good heart rate monitors will not only break down your workout effort by average heart rate, but by amount of time spent at a particular intensity level.  Entire books have been written about training by heart rate, and quickly leaves the beaten path to go into the weeds of the “should I use the ‘220-minus-age’ formula to calculate my heart rate?” question, the “male-versus-female max-heart-rate” debate (which my wife and I have had on many occasions), and so on.  Surprisingly enough, physiology researchers found a strong correlation between perceived effort (that “one-to-ten-scale” thing) and percentage of maximum heart rate; a perceived effort of “five” was found to be right around the fifty-percent of maximum heart rate point, and so on.

So now we've talked about the simple "where," "how far," and "how hard" of running.  I'll talk in the next installment on what to do with that information.

Keep It Simple - Part I

“It can scarcely be denied that the supreme goal of all theory is to make the irreducible basic elements as simple and as few as possible without having to surrender the adequate representation of a single datum of experience.” 

Albert Einstein (1879-1955), during a lecture, Oxford, June 1933

When is the last time you walked into your local running emporium to purchase a pair of shoes?  In a perfect world, if you’re like me, the duration from arrival-to-purchase is brief; I know (down to three makers/styles) the shoe I need.  I don’t need to try them on or do a brief jog in them.  Just set the box on the counter and swipe my American Express card.  Thanks, and I’ll see you in about ten weeks.

My $500-per-year running shoe habit probably covers a little less than 1/1000^th of a store proprietor’s yearly expenses.  My few gizmos, gadgets, and apparel - thank heavens - have longer life spans.  The entry-level runner is more likely to be welcomed with open arms into "SHOES 'R' US" than frugal/cheap runners like me.  "GAIT-O-RAMA" associates love to see the person who just got finished reading the “five weeks to a faster 5K” or “crush your first marathon” article in the glossy running magazine or on the interlink.  There's nothing like seeing the newbie runner drool as they finger their way through the jogger-porn and look with longing at advertisements for the newest electronic training gadget, or hydration system, or symphony-quality earbuds.  There are benefits to many of the apparel items, multifunctional watches, post-run recovery gadgets and technological “nice-to-haves,” but Murphy’s Law posits that the higher-ticket item leads to a greater and more irrational dependence.  The more dependent the runner becomes on them, the more likely they will either go missing the day before the race - requiring a very expensive replacement during the race expo - or die/malfunction on the day of said race.

(If you have considered participating in a triathlon, I advise you to NOT buy any expensive technological gadget, especially one which plays music or speaks to you on the run.  Trust me.  You’ll either thank me or the referee who does not have to assess a penalty later.  But I digress.)

I’ve killed music players, had pace/distance/heart rate/training tracking gadgets malfunction beyond all recognition (I think the technical term is “FUBAR”), and slunk away like a hound caught piddling on the living room carpet as my wife discovered a portable hydration bladder-turned-petri dish.

Einstein’s goal of achieving simplicity without loss of the necessary holds true, especially for runners.  Do you need a fancy wrench set to tighten or loosen a bolt when a pair of Vise-Grip pliers might work as well?  It all depends on how many times you plan to do the job.  If it’s a one-shot deal - or (like triathletes) we’re trying to find out what we really need early on - the odds are good we can use more-simple tools.  Once you figure out what you can live with/without, then we can gradually acquire the stuff which works best for us.

The simplest needs for every runner regardless of the distance or the coach are a training plan, a way to measure distance, a way to figure out how long they have run.  There needs to be a place to store all this information, as well as the effort expended and how soon another pair of shoes will be needed.  I’ll talk more about the simplest measures of distance, time and effort in the next installment.

Hell Freezes Over, Sort Of

"For the record, we never broke up; we just took a 14-year vacation..." - Glenn Frey, 1994

I've coached a small group of (as few as three to as many as a dozen) adult runners for six years, in the classic "stand on the side of the track" as well as the "in the pack" style.  Each style has its benefits and drawbacks; coaching revealed me at my best and my worst.  If an aspiring author were to write it without the benefit or hindrance of this blog it would most likely either look like a Charles Dickens ("best of times, worst of times") tale.  Maybe not.  More likely in the style of a Stephen King ("...heeeeere's Johnny!") screenplay.  As long as Jack Nicholson isn't playing me, I'm all right.

Coaching is stressful, especially if you feel the need to prove to athletes that the training will never get "boring," (news flash:  it will, get used to it...) or, worse yet, when a symbiotic relationship with a running emporium (''...you refer runners to me for training, I send them to you for shoes and gear...') transforms into "competition."  Add to the stress a pair of achilles tendons made cranky by too much hard training and not enough recovery, and life becomes a misery.

So, I took a bit of a holiday.  I retired.  I became a "gentleman" coach; a "quasi-guru" with a limited and non-paying clientele.  Not surprisingly, people "suddenly" become more interested in training when you're not available.  It's no different than the difference between when you're single and when you finally find that "soul mate;" every other person who otherwise would not have given you the time of day if your watch had stopped cold dead wants something to do with you.

Last weekend I decided, against my better judgment, to hang the shingle again.  I don't know why, other than perhaps the moon was full, the beer was cold, my tendons hadn't barked at me for a month, and the person who asked me seemed to be genuinely interested. 

This time, however, things will be different.  I have nothing to prove to anyone who shows up.  Except for the fact I can give them a good product at a reasonable price.  They will pay, I will coach, and they will work.  Seems simple enough to me.

Three "Really Ought To Have" Gadgets

This morning, my wife is going to see her dentist, Dr. Roberto Maal. Until about a month ago she had little need to visit him, or any other dentist, for that matter. Suzanne is as mindful of her home care routine as I am when it comes to my training routine. It makes dental hygienists jealous.

However, she was assaulted while walking to her car on a Saturday evening in our downtown. Disoriented & confused, with a scraped-up knee & damaged incisor teeth, she walked nearly three miles (past the police station) to a friend's house. She tried calling my cell phone (which just happened to be sitting in my car) to have me come get her, & ended up spending a very chilly night on her friend's front porch.

I woke up early the next morning to no spouse. Panic immediately followed, especially after hearing the messages which provided no information other than "come get me." I drove into downtown looking for her car, then called her friends in the hope she was with them. One friend, awakened from a sound sleep at six a.m., suddenly realized Suzanne was out on the porch & had been knocking on the window the entire night, trying to get her attention.

Fortunately for us, & thanks to Dr. Maal, the story has an economic & emotional "happy ending." But all too often I read news articles of "horror stories," where solitary (female) joggers or walkers have been mugged, robbed, sexually assaulted, or killed because they were in the wrong place at a bad time.

I've always been a true believer of the running credo "travel light, travel fast." Go into a local running emporium (when I go to the one in my town, I feel this way...) & no doubt you'll see the latest & greatest accessories coming down the pike targeting the entry-level runner. Some are "nice-to-haves." Others are a complete waste of money.

Three items, in my humble opinion, should be in the equipment bag of every runner - and carried along for every run - regardless of ability level. A caveat: If I mention a particular brand it's because I've had experience with their product, not because I receive any compensation.

Identification. There are a number of portable identification & information-sharing devices on the market, ranging from the simple dog-tag or wrist tag to the complex USB-capable data wristband. I haven't tried the newer USB drives, though. I've worn three RoadID devices in the past ten years & prefer their simplicity. The latest models from RoadID provide a web address or toll-free number for emergency personnel to access pertinent user data; even the simple RoadID models are easy to read & can make the difference between a running partner or passer-by knowing who to call in an emergency & a news story about another John Doe hit-and-run.

Carry Pouch. Apparel makers, like RaceReady, have made their mark in the running community by developing clothes for (longer) distance runners who need to carry important "stuff" like gels or electrolytes with them. I have shorts, & even a few running tops, from some of the major athletic wear/shoe companies like Brooks & Mizuno, which have pouches & pockets built in. But an item I first saw a couple of years ago at the Crescent City Classic expo really stands out:

Spibelt, based out of Texas, makes several small personal item carriers. My wife & I purchased one at the last Rock n' Roll event, with the addition of a toggle to secure our race number to the belt. Spibelt is small enough to be hardly noticed in public (much like a traveler's money belt); the pouch - from personal experience - comfortably holds an iPod Touch & a smart phone, plus driver's license, credit card, folding money, & won't flap on the run like a fanny pack. If you can fit it comfortably into a single jeans pocket, you can probably carry it in a Spibelt.

If you want to keep your phone separate from your credit card, there is a two-pouch Spibelt. Both single & two-pouch Spibelts come in a variety of colors (basic black for me, pink camouflage for Suzanne) & have an adjustable elastic belt with a strong Fastex buckle clasp...so it won't come off until you're ready for it to come off.

Cell Phone. In the past I recommended to RRCA clubs to have at least one person on a group run carry a photo-enabled cell phone. The smart phone's gadgetry is almost a "must-have" now; you can download applications which will help you find who has the GPS function turned on, search for information on the nearest public safety provider, & even request turn-by-turn directions in the event of disorientation. The things these phones can do now goes far beyond & thankfully can dovetail into what we could do in the past by just calling the local 911 service.

Even these & other good gadgets are no substitute for the common-sense practices of running with one or more other persons when possible, maintaining situational awareness at all times, & staying out in the great wide open (public) as often as possible. My wife & I learned a painful, mildly expensive lesson, but (fortunately!) we live to run another day.

This Kind of Crazy

"If ... he could no longer endure the realities of ... life, he found a way out in his mental life– an invaluable opportunity to dwell in the spiritual domain, the one (they) ... were unable to destroy." - "Man's Search For Meaning" - Viktor Frankl (1905-1997)

Sometimes you "have" to do something a little bit out of the ordinary. A little bit on the crazy side. I've often heard talk of persons with multiple personality disorders; the term "crazy" is bandied about with such indistinction. Each of us live multiple lives & have multiple personalities, depending on the role we need to play: As a coach I provide wisdom & guidance to athletes, sometimes through a bit of bad judgement of my own. As a runner I look for a good story to entertain friends & family. Somehow the thought of how to talk about some of this kind of fell together on a four & a half mile easy trot the other morning...

The story really starts a little after two o'clock in the morning last Tuesday; I woke up wanting a soda. This might sound a little strange for a guy on vacation in New Orleans; I hadn't had a soda in over a week. Neither water nor beer was going to help me get back to sleep. However, all I had was two twenty-dollar bills, so I had to get change from the hotel front desk. I took my wallet & rode the elevator down to the lobby. "No change for a twenty," says the desk clerk. Here's where the fun begins:

Rather than return to the room for my shoes & risk awakening my (sleeping) wife, I plan to walk the two blocks - in a pair of baggy shorts, t-shirt & in stocking feet - to a convenience store on Canal, purchase my soda, & walk back. This should take no time at all. A great idea, right? Lesson: Not everything stays open all night in NOLA; what is open late on a weekend is not always the same on a weeknight. Canal Street is EMPTY on a Tuesday morning at 2:15 a.m. I begin to tick off on the map in my head where I can go, & walk another two blocks to a shop which should still be open.

I encounter a guy in Army Camouflage Utilities with a roll-on suitcase. He stares at me like I am truly insane. He tells me he just got off the plane from Afghanistan & trying to make his way home - why his route was by way of the French Quarter makes as much sense to me as my stocking-clad search for soda pop does to him. Actually, I understand him more than he does me.

Every so often you feel compelled...don't ask the logic behind compulsions of this sort; something like this happened about a year ago at the Beachcomber, in Waikiki. The specialist, in exchange for cab fare, would gladly point me in the general direction of a 24-hour soft drink purveyor. Now there are two of us in a modern-day "Wizard of Oz" situation. Lions, & tigers, & bears...

We chatted as we walked the three blocks; talking about family, our jobs, stuff like that. The store, like any place which remains open when most sane people on the face of the earth (not getting paid to stay awake) are normally asleep, has a small group standing outside the door. Naturally, they all marvel at the (obvious) fact I have walked around without shoes. The only answer I can give, naturally, is: "it's a long story." The only ones who fail to look in awe or wonder, strangely enough, are the gentlemen who benefit financially. Gee, you would think a guy carrying forty bucks would be welcome in their place. Not like I'm going to steal anything. Maybe they are concerned because of a recent rash of barefoot runners.

I hand the Guardsman a twenty to pay for the soda; he asks me to wait outside the store. He comes out seconds later with the change. I give him cab fare, which he hands to the cabbie - who followed us over to the store. I quietly snarl at the logic of his action, but the hack driver is not driving anyone who isn't paying, I guess.

I take my soda & walk back toward the hotel. Half way back from the convenience store, I encounter two couples strolling back to their hotel from their evening of debauchery. Not only do they ask the obvious, but begin to take photos, as though I am some kind of freak. Hello? Who is the sober one here?

Sobriety is great, even at three in the morning. The grating & sidewalk, on the other hand, is trying my soles. I was almost certain barefoot running was not for me when that "Born To Run" book came out; now I know. All my friends could say, when I recounted the tale for them that evening, was that I was a little insane. Looking back at the act, a few days later, it was a well-intentioned development of positive karma covering an illogical selfish desire...something for which I would have gently derided my wife had she told me the same tale.

I guess we all are a little bit crazy, here & there. The compulsions we feel can force us to run fifty marathons in fifty states, or do ultra runs on mountains...or to do truly harmful things to ourselves & others around us (I consider marathons only harmful to young or inexperienced runners). I guess the difference between (near-) rationality & lunacy, to the kind which can enable complete strangers (even those entrusted to care for us) to treat us like a lesser being, boils down to our ability to clearly tell the story, rather than letting someone else tell it.

If someone asks why you're crazy enough to run, tell them. Just make certain to keep the message simple.

Like Christmas, Without The Bills

How neat. I have this bright, shiny, new Dell workstation where the old Dell used to be. Every couple of years the Navy decides to do a technical refresh of their computers; I believe this is part of the contract with EDS or something like that.

Oh, and a more-modern operating system, too? Quick. Someone pinch me.

I'm certain I'll be in a honeymoon period with this particular workstation for at least two weeks. After that, when NMCI decides to exert its influence by locking me out of Lets Run.com once again I'll probably be a screaming maniac once again. But in the meantime life is not too bad.

I only wish I was as happy with my running shoes right now.

When I started to lace up the training shoes at the track last night, there was this humongous gap between the sole of the shoe and my forefoot. Yes, humongous is a technical term...let's say probably somewhere between 1/8th-and-1/4 of an inch gap, with the left shoe larger than the right. I won't mention the specific brand of shoe, but it's one I haven't used in a long time. And the worst part, in my humble opinion, is that I have less than 300 training (or racing) miles on them. So, at around $85 a pair, give or take $10, that's about 90 cents per mile.

Could be worse. I haven't had to buy too many pairs of shoes this year because of the injury in the summer. But it kind of puts a bad taste in my mouth about that particular shoe, which I have to admit I did like...but not at that price.

No use b!tch!ng and moaning about the problem, though. Shoes die. Perhaps I did some things in these shoes I don't normally do. Just provides me a viable excuse to visit my local running store again this week.