Nature's Little Surprises

"Nature loves her little surprises....don't you know it's a waste of your day caught up in endless solutions that have no meaning, just a hunch based on jumping conclusions...living a life of illusion..." - (Joe Walsh, 1981)

On my non-running day this last week, Suzanne and I were invited to a Zumba class by a friend (a former member of my training group, and my dentist) and his girlfriend. When the invitation came I believe I had a good idea what to expect.


In case you spent the last decade in a place where there are no gyms playing a single beat of Latin-flavored dance music, Zumba is a mix of Latin-style dance and aerobic moves. If you squint just so and the lighting is right during a sixty-minute session, you might get visions of Billy Blanks and Shakira.


I've done aerobic classes of one kind or another over the past couple of decades, however almost 30 years had passed since I did my last "mae geri keage" in the dojo, so the kickboxing moves were going to be more difficult. I'd seen the info commercials on television, so I worried a little leading into the class session. First, bouncing around on a linoleum floor in a school cafeteria may not be good rehabilitation for achilles tendonosis. Second, my parents did not pass on the "dance" gene, at least not to any popular dance outside of "high school hug-disguised-as-a-slow-dance" dance.

But I did remember my first aerobic instructor's advice if a routine became too complicated:

Keep breathing. Breathing is definitely a good idea, considering the unsavory alternatives. I don't do "smurf" all that well.

Keep moving. Standing still in an exercise class when everyone else is moving eventually leads to unintended collisions. Kickboxing moves, not full-contact kumite, grasshopper.

Keep smiling. If smiling is not possible a grimace looks much like a smile from a distance.

In that order.


But most importantly, I was going to be (probably) the second guy in a class full of women. There are guys who feel comfortable in their presence. There are guys who, by circumstance, spend a great deal of their life in their close proximity. If you're one of those guys whose livelihood (two good examples being the medical and educational disciplines) requires you to be in close proximity, you learn a lot of things.

You learn women are EXACTLY like men. At least when they are in an environment where they are the overwhelming majority, if not the totality. Sure, their work spaces are a little more nicely decorated, scented, and accessorized, otherwise they're alike. While I've never spent time in a ladies' locker room, I can say that women who work in an all-female shop can be very un-ladylike. They are more likely to, to be polite, "let their hair down." I've heard things no man should probably ever know existed. After about six months, I pretty much became one of the girls...estrogen-challenged and testosterone-enhanced, but one of the girls, no less.


After Dr. Quigley's "breathe, move, smile" advice came that of Clint Eastwood, straight out of "Heartbreak Ridge." Sure, that old Marine Corps gunnery sergeant was trying to get in touch with his inner-feminine side (or his ex-wife's), but he valued the ability to 'adapt, overcome, improvise.' As Suzanne moved farther forward into the class and worked at learning the routines, I stayed in the back of the classroom where the traffic was lighter, got a good sweat, and - most importantly - didn't hurt myself or anyone else too much. And, while dance frustrates me, I have to admit I did have a little bit of fun.


Perhaps that's why all-woman health and fitness clubs and women's running groups are popular. The "fairer sex" can feel less hindered or intimidated by us grunting, sweating, metal plate-chucking, lead-by-a half-stride-pace-seeking knuckleheads. Some of them do get better workouts that way. Of course, there are women who completely waste their time socializing or working out at an intensity level just one notch above sitting on the couch.


There are benefits to co-ed training. If you want to get a good weight workout, do it with a chick. There's not going to be a lot of grunting and, if you'll pardon the expression, man-handling the weight. Women more often use proper form and reasonable resistance. They'll get a lot of repetitions in so the muscle is stronger, not necessarily bigger. And there are drawbacks, too. There have been track workouts where my ego had to kick in to keep from getting "chicked" on one or more repeats. I trained with a woman who was so tough, we joked she would only quit a workout when a bone was sticking out of her leg...and only after she realized the bone ws her own.

"Every once in a while," my wife says, "we need to confuse our body by doing something a little different." Here's to the occasional confusion workout. It can be something as simple as changing from the time of the run from evening to morning, the surface from road to treadmill, the situation from running solo to doing a run with a group.

Taking God By Surprise

"If God invented the marathon to keep people from doing anything more stupid, triathlon must have taken Him completely by surprise." - P. Z. Pearce, medical director, Hawaii Ironman World Championships

There is no doubt in my mind some activities should NOT be attempted by nearly sane human beings. Leaping from buildings, antennas, spans and earth (cliffs) with very small parachutes often approach the top of my short list. A one-in-sixty chance of dying will do things like that, at least for me. However, the point between the "do NOT do this," and the "what the heck, let's give it a whirl" sides of the continuum varies from person to person. Some folks are able, or choose, to ignore the line altogether.

After watching nearly two hundred ostensibly sane men ride their bicycles nearly the same amount of mileage - including descents which might even make a BASE jumper think twice - over a three-week period I would run in the course of a (good) year of training I asked myself, 'could I do that?' The risk-taking side of me almost instantly placed an event like the Tour de France on the "what the heck..." side.

Then I watched the video clip of all the nasty accidents. I repeated the clip where the television commentator's car took out two cyclists. Immediately after that, riding 2100 miles in three weeks moved closer to the "do NOT..."line. A little. Ah, but it's not unlike riding here on some weekends.

Which got me to thinking about running.

During the Tour de France's second rest day, the cable channel which televised the Tour (Versus) showed the Western States 100-Mile Trail Run. I wonder if they wanted to tell the viewer, '...if you think what you've been watching for the past two weeks is crazy, take a look at this...' Having read Timothy Noakes' discussions on ultramarathoning in his work 'Lore of Running,' as well as Dean Karnazes' 'Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner,' it doesn't seem nearly as out there as one would think. Yes, I'm still working to make it to another marathon starting line in a healthy state, but my wife and I have received an invitation from a family friend to visit them and do the Comrades Marathon in South Africa. Running 26.2 miles is, yes, crazy. Actually, in my case, it's the training more than the race.

Once upon a time, the marathon was the be-all, end-all of running endurance events. Yes, there were "bunion derbies" and transcontinental foot races, but those were way to the right of the "do NOT..." line. Even Comrades - which, if you technically call anything over 26.2 miles an ultra, is misnamed, because at 56 miles it's more than double the standard marathon distance - was intended by the originator, one Vic Clapham, "to allow us to put our human physical frailties to the test," according to the event's web site.

So what were the organizers of the Western States Endurance Run, where a silver belt buckle is awarded to the men (and women!) who can complete the 100-mile course in less than 24 hours, or Leadville, which has been wryly described as "Western States with a sock in your mouth"...er, thinking? Is it a "sticks and stones" thing; someone decided to up the ante from the sublime into the ridiculous?

And it's not just endurance events which are crazy. I always thought that the 3,000 meter steeplechase event in track-and-field was destined for the same degree of ignominy and shame as baseball's designated-hitter rule. Why would we take the worst elements of distance running and sprinting and mash them together? Oh, and in order to make things "a little more fun," let's add solid barriers and water. Joy!

The world seems to be filled with people who, usually after a pitcher of beer apiece and a dry cocktail napkin, decide "let's put two dissimilar activities together, and see who signs up."

Hash kennels are the home of "A-plus-B-equals-something-fun," with events ranging from the "let's drink beer and run" of the typical "trail" to the "run while wearing a red dress in the name of charity" nature of the annual Red Dress Runs. How about running four quarter miles and drinking four 12-ounce cans of beer...preferably without throwing up? The sometimes-underground, sometimes around-the-corner nature of Beer Mile might be the thing. Of course, New Orleans (and now my fair city) have seen fit to let roller derby enthusiasts join in on the fun. Sometimes we need someone else to toss their chips into the pot.

If you're going to go "all in," to continue in the gambling parlance, you might as well have a good time doing it.

Who knows? We might even take God by surprise.

Thank You Very Much

Every once in a while you hear or read something that surprises the daylights out of you. In this particular case, it was more of a good surprise. One of the triathlon coaches I enjoy reading, Chuckie V, announced the fact one of his main athletes was moving on to (or was picked up by) Team TBB. For most of average readers who know little about multisport, but might know something about the Hawaii Ironman triathlon, one of TBB's athletes, Chrissie Wellington, has won the Hawaii Ironman during the past two years. Team TBB is described as a developmental squad & has one of the best coaches in the business, Brett Sutton.

I can only imagine the pride, as well as the mixture of emotions, coursing through Chuckie at this moment, as he helps Angela prepare to move on to bigger opportunities. It's not so much that Brett Sutton is a better coach, or TBB is a better team as much as it is an opportunity for Angela to be able to more closely focus on her dream; becoming a professional triathlete...becoming the best athlete she can be. And when you read Angela's blog you can tell the feeling is mutual.
Frankly, nothing more warms the cockles of my heart (whoa...dude...hearts have cockles...) than to have someone I've coached (defined as provided counsel, guidance, encouragement, and/or workouts) publicly compliment me for what I've done, & how I've been able to assist them achieve their personal athletic goal/s. Sometimes, amazingly, some even laud me to others around them.However, I have to make it clear; their personal accomplishment was achieved because of their own efforts, with a small degree of help from me. Regardless of whether I draw up a training plan, or answer a physiology question, or recommend a workout, or even provide a bit of perspective (some cases I'm the guy telling them, 'don't worry about having a bad workout/day/week/performance today; this isn't the day to focus on...'), I cannot follow the training plan, run the workout, take the action (or inaction) for them. They have to do it themself.

So, maybe I should thank them in return for following my advice & trusting me to be their coach/sports psychology technician/referral person. Since they're not making money it might be all I get. However, in many cases it leads to repeat, ongoing customers.
So, thank you, thankyouverymuch...

Enjoying The Journey

Athletic events, like life in general, are loaded with surprises. You save, you prepare, you get counsel and advice for every imaginable contingency, and boom shaka-laka (as my wife would say), something else pops up that you certainly did not expect. A water temperature that's much colder than you (or your wetsuit) can handle. A swim distance that's 200 yards longer, or rougher, than you initially suspected for the conditions. Shifting winds. One more flat tire than the number of tubes/inflator cartridges you are carrying.
I guess that's what makes sport - I used factors germane to triathlon, but running has it's own share of possible impossibles, such as floppy shoelaces, blisters, the severe need for a porta-john while the race is being contested, and so on, and so on - so much fun. You train, you plan your races, get your gear set up and tightened up to within an inch of its life...and life (for those of you who know John Lennon's music, I won't go further) happens.
I had my moment of 'oh, my God, if I am swimming like this, how in heaven's name will I get through a swim three times the distance in three weeks?' the other weekend. However, once I got on the bike and past the first 2500 yards of the ride - about the time it takes me to realize I'm back on terra firma (and as they might say in Boston, 'the more firma the less terra') - I begin to relax and know my body and my training wouldn't necessarily let me down.
Sure, I'm a terrible swimmer. But I found I was doing much better than many of my contemporaries in the wave. I was the one pointing out dangerous situations to the rescue swimmers as I breast-stroked by. I began, at that moment on the bike, to enjoy the journey I was taking.
It's something I didn't do last autumn as I trained for the marathon. I was so focused and fixated on that elusive goal of running in Boston in 2008 or 2009 I hadn't tapped into my own well (figuratively) to check whether my source was clear and sweet or brackish. Only in late November had I realized I was drinking from a poisoned well, so to speak. By that time it was beyond too late to fix the damage.
One of my athletes has finished two Ironman-distance triathlons and is presently training for a third. He's meticulous in his planning and his training. His employment, fortunately, allows him a great degree of flexibility in scheduling workouts. He's blessed with a wife who also is smart and athletic, so he has no lack of training partners. We talk on Friday evenings over beer and dinner, sometimes about travel, sometimes about sport, and sometimes we just talk. He reminded me, as I began to lay out my training plan for this spring, to enjoy the journey. It sounds like some sort of cop-out, especially to a guy who is used to picking up hardware at local and regional races if he's in physical and mental shape for racing. But when it comes to endurance events and multisport endurance events, if you're not an elite, the odds are very good you're going out to prove something to yourself. In the grand scheme of things, a 17-hour Ironman-distance triathlon experience is a droplet of spittle in the pool when compared to the nine months or more you'll spend training. Same thing for most marathon plans. An 18-week training build-up will probably total 800-1000 miles, all for a single-day's effort of 26.2.That is a lot of time for things to go right, or to go wrong. You can make it drudgery or fun. It's your choice. Odds are good the fun factor isn't going to adversely affect the outcome, so you might as well do what it takes to make the training fun. Don't judge the success or failure of the training necessarily by the outcome on race day, either. If you do that odds are plenty high you're going to be sorely disappointed.

But I bet if you look at some of the objective stuff on the way from the beginning of training to the race day, you're going to find you're tougher, stronger, faster, fitter, maybe even smarter about your body than you were before it all.

And being smarter about your own body will make you focus and appreciate what you can do more than focus on and kvetch about what you cannot.