Exhaustion and irritation go hand-in-hand. When one first shows up it is almost guaranteed that the other will not be far behind. Sometimes they walk in together like the proverbial bull in a china shop. Other times they sneak in quietly like a team of malicious ninja. And yes "ninja" is the proper plural form of, well, "ninja".
The point is, I've been trying for two f'ing days to write about my experience at the Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon. What I've written has become more of a damned chronicle than a blog post, but as I try to formulate my thoughts, do some editing, or get out everything that is swirling inside of my head regarding the race, something or someone jumps in to completely disrupt my work. By the end of the day I am so completely burned out from the demands that have been systematically made of me that I don't have anything else left for me.
And speaking of work, going back on the job today didn't help things either. Everything is piled up and the case files just keep coming. And there is no support. Guys who aren't in specialized units think that those of us who get to wear the cool pants are golden boys who have it made. But at the end of the day they get to tune out, turn off and go home to their families. While we get to go home and sleep next to a phone that we pray doesn't ring, but invariably does. What's more, if it isn't the bastards in one place coming to me for their own selfish needs, then it is the emotional terrorists in other places who threaten to make your life a living hell because you aren't behaving the way that they have scripted.
Not a single person who surrounds me understands what happened this weekend. They see the medal and they comment nicely on it, but they don't really, truly appreciate it. They can't. They didn't suffer through the mileage during long, isolated hours of training runs. They didn't push themselves to the point of pain and beyond. They have no idea what kind of mental and emotional hurdles that you have to clear just to be able to commit to putting yourself through that kind of trial. Only the ones who have can and they are very few and far between.
Likewise, the marathon and my job are very much alike. Unless you have done it, you can't understand what it takes to do it or the satisfaction that comes from having done it. Nor can you appreciate the things that it also takes from you. But that is the nature of both beasts. They compliment, drive, feed, and help balance the other. Like exhaustion and irritation, running and my career go hand-in-hand.
30 April 2012
27 April 2012
Marathons and the Quest For Gold
On Wednesday, April 25th, the ING NYC Marathon selected the names of the non-guaranteed entrants for the 2012 marathon. I have never ran the NYC Marathon and decided to put my name in the hat on the odd chance that I might be selected as a first time applicant. In true lottery fashion I also paid an $11 non-refundable "application fee". I did this on the first day registration opened in January. So I have waited patiently for four months to learn my fate. The NY Road Runners made a huge promotion of how the runners would be selected during a 30 minute kick off event broadcast live on the web on April 25th.
So on Wednesday I settled quite comfortably down in front of my computer and browsed on over to the nyrr.org website. After several long minutes of refreshing my browser (because apparently the website wasn't prepared for the amount of traffic they encountered and crashed) I finally was able to bring up the webcast. I won't even go into how unorganized, un-"eventful", or horribly done the entire production was. Suffice it is to say that it was 30 minutes of my life that I will never get back. And to top it all off, they did not display the names of those selected or provide any information that would lead you to a link for searchable information, etc. The whole thing felt like a sham. Too bad for one of the largest marathons in the world. You would think they would have this down by now. It was finally announced (through Twitter channels no less) that credit card processing was taking place and that it could take until 10:00 AM the following day before anyone would have confirmation. Following the advice of some friends, I logged into the profile I had created on the NYRR site. There it was in glowing pixels on my screen - Marathon registration status: Not accepted. Bummer.
They were kind enough to send me a "sorry about your luck" e-mail on Thursday at 9:11 PM. I appreciated the prompt notification of my rejection (sarcasm). I've had non-confrontational, passive-aggressive girlfriends who have been quicker and more direct with rejection than these guys. Epic fail, fellas. Reallly.
On a more positive note, I have been quietly, steadily pursuing my Gold Level membership with Starbucks. Since December of 2011, when I loaded the very cool Starbucks app onto my iPhone, I have been striving for that elite level. On Tuesday evening I was presented with this bit o' news when I drove up for a evening triple espresso:
So, as of Wednesday morning I am now officially a Gold Member. Take that any way you'd like. I should have snapped a screen shot of my "congratulations, you're an addicted sucker" notification, but I was too busy bouncing off the walls on my caffeine high. But if anything positive came out of Wednesday, it was my successful attainment of an empty, meaningless goal; one that represents an average investment of $150 over the course of the last 30 visits to Starbucks for coffee that I most probably could have made at home for a fraction of the cost. But then, I wouldn't get the cool designer cup and cardboard sleeve thing.
Tomorrow is the KDF Marathon. I have already laid my gear out and the Garmin is charging up. Considering that I am going to be out of bed at some ridiculous hour in the morning, I really should go to bed. Big day tomorrow. Wish I had a more positive feeling about it, but I'm really kind of numb at this point. Perhaps I'll feel differently once I'm in the middle of the chaos at the start line tomorrow. We shall see.
So on Wednesday I settled quite comfortably down in front of my computer and browsed on over to the nyrr.org website. After several long minutes of refreshing my browser (because apparently the website wasn't prepared for the amount of traffic they encountered and crashed) I finally was able to bring up the webcast. I won't even go into how unorganized, un-"eventful", or horribly done the entire production was. Suffice it is to say that it was 30 minutes of my life that I will never get back. And to top it all off, they did not display the names of those selected or provide any information that would lead you to a link for searchable information, etc. The whole thing felt like a sham. Too bad for one of the largest marathons in the world. You would think they would have this down by now. It was finally announced (through Twitter channels no less) that credit card processing was taking place and that it could take until 10:00 AM the following day before anyone would have confirmation. Following the advice of some friends, I logged into the profile I had created on the NYRR site. There it was in glowing pixels on my screen - Marathon registration status: Not accepted. Bummer.
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| I used to wonder what this dude was screaming about. Now I know he is screaming in frustration. |
On a more positive note, I have been quietly, steadily pursuing my Gold Level membership with Starbucks. Since December of 2011, when I loaded the very cool Starbucks app onto my iPhone, I have been striving for that elite level. On Tuesday evening I was presented with this bit o' news when I drove up for a evening triple espresso:
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| Holy Crap! Almost there! |
Tomorrow is the KDF Marathon. I have already laid my gear out and the Garmin is charging up. Considering that I am going to be out of bed at some ridiculous hour in the morning, I really should go to bed. Big day tomorrow. Wish I had a more positive feeling about it, but I'm really kind of numb at this point. Perhaps I'll feel differently once I'm in the middle of the chaos at the start line tomorrow. We shall see.
24 April 2012
Naked As A Jaybird
I haven't been sleeping well lately; or sometimes not at all. Not that this is any surprise or even unusual. I don't think that I've ever slept well. Could be the allergies. Could be the stress of the job. Could be the 5 trillion milligrams of caffeine that is in the OxyElite Pro that I've started taking again. But that is a whole other post for another time.
Regardless, my insomnia has had some benefits; namely being able to research running gear in privacy while the rest of the house sleeps. I don't care what they say, silence is golden.
With the KDF Marathon rushing toward me, and a bit of doubt having wormed its way into my head, I began brainstorming ways of making my run more comfortable. Awesome Under Armour running shorts: check. Balega socks: check. Brooks Addiction 10s: check (which incidentally have become much more comfortable since the 20 miler I ran wearing them for the first time). Bodyglide: Check. Hydration and fuel: um, yeah. The hydration belt. That could use some tweaking.
On long runs I carry a lot of gear. A lot of gear. In addition to the four eight ounce bottles of liquid on my Amphipod Runlite 4 hydration belt (I love my Amphipod belt), I also carry my gels, my chews, my iPhone, and my handgun. Yes, I said handgun. All of those items combined add an extra four to five pounds to my waist. That may not seem like a lot, but over distance it can become a nuisance; the weight of the belt slipping down my hips as I run. Plus I often place the headphone wire from my iPhone under my shirt so that it isn't in the way of swinging arms, etc. There is a comfort issue there as well, as the wire eventually becomes sweaty and begins to pull and twist and seemingly take on a life of its own. There have been times when I'm certain that the iPhone has come alive and has attempted to strangle me by wrapping the headphone wire around my neck. Stupid Skynet. Anyway, I've also been through three or four pair of Apple headphones because they do not hold up well with sweat. So with hours of quiet time, I turned to the internet to begin solving my gear issue.
Two very important lessons that I have learned in my lifetime have been 1) travel light and 2) load balance. Those two things have serious relevance when related to running. My primary concern was getting what weight that I could off of the belt, and so I turned my focus first toward the iPhone. The most logical choice was an armband, but which one? The trick was to find one that would support the phone without taking it out of the Otterbox Defender case that is protecting it (have I mentioned that I'm seriously hard on gear?). I also needed something that wasn't going to slide down my arm. I'll spare you the long boring details of my search but I settled on the Armpocket. Although I had my sights set on the Sport i-20 with its "20 cubic inches of storage capacity", it took a physical trip to Best Buy (two days later) to test the actual product before I realized that the Armpocket Aero i-10 was perfect. I mean perfect! As though the Aero had been designed around the iPhone 4s in a Defender case. The Sport wouldn't even zip closed with the iPhone inside, but the shape of the Aero pocket matched the Defender case perfectly and it zipped right up.
Now that the iPhone issue had been addressed, what to do about that pesky headphone wire? Again, more research on the net. The obvious solution was going to be some-type of wireless Bluetooth contraption. Lots of choices and tons of reviews, but I had specific requirements. They had to be light, practical, and had to stand up to sweat. Lots and lots of sweat. Finally, on a whim, I searched for "triathlon" and "bluetooth". What I found was JayBird Gear Freedom JF3 Bluetooth Headphones. "Official Training Headphones of USA Triathlon". The JayBird website promised that I could "completely forget about" my headphones. "Shakeproof" and "sweat proof'ed to the extreme". So far so good. I'm all about things "to the extreme". I started digging for reviews; all of which were very positive. But it was the following video that sold me.
I tested the Armpocket on yesterday's morning run (along with my new Nike Dri-fit Miler Singlet). It (they) performed like a champ. Combined with the JF3s, some of my hydration belt/irritating wire issues should be solved. There is still the matter of the handgun, but I really don't think that running in my tactical dropleg thigh rig is going to be an option. Oh, well. Some improvement is better than none.
Perhaps I really am compensating for that sliver of doubt with new gear purchases. But the truth is, when facing down that 26.2 miles, none of that is really going to matter. It will come down to heart and drive. Cool armbands, fancy headphones, and evenly distributed gear absolutely won't carry you through the distance. Only determination will do that. And I have plenty of it...and fancy new headphones now too.
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| 5 trillion milligrams is 2,204,622.622 lbs or 1,000 tons. That is a lot of caffeine. |
With the KDF Marathon rushing toward me, and a bit of doubt having wormed its way into my head, I began brainstorming ways of making my run more comfortable. Awesome Under Armour running shorts: check. Balega socks: check. Brooks Addiction 10s: check (which incidentally have become much more comfortable since the 20 miler I ran wearing them for the first time). Bodyglide: Check. Hydration and fuel: um, yeah. The hydration belt. That could use some tweaking.
On long runs I carry a lot of gear. A lot of gear. In addition to the four eight ounce bottles of liquid on my Amphipod Runlite 4 hydration belt (I love my Amphipod belt), I also carry my gels, my chews, my iPhone, and my handgun. Yes, I said handgun. All of those items combined add an extra four to five pounds to my waist. That may not seem like a lot, but over distance it can become a nuisance; the weight of the belt slipping down my hips as I run. Plus I often place the headphone wire from my iPhone under my shirt so that it isn't in the way of swinging arms, etc. There is a comfort issue there as well, as the wire eventually becomes sweaty and begins to pull and twist and seemingly take on a life of its own. There have been times when I'm certain that the iPhone has come alive and has attempted to strangle me by wrapping the headphone wire around my neck. Stupid Skynet. Anyway, I've also been through three or four pair of Apple headphones because they do not hold up well with sweat. So with hours of quiet time, I turned to the internet to begin solving my gear issue.
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| Winner! Armpocket Aero i-10! |
Now that the iPhone issue had been addressed, what to do about that pesky headphone wire? Again, more research on the net. The obvious solution was going to be some-type of wireless Bluetooth contraption. Lots of choices and tons of reviews, but I had specific requirements. They had to be light, practical, and had to stand up to sweat. Lots and lots of sweat. Finally, on a whim, I searched for "triathlon" and "bluetooth". What I found was JayBird Gear Freedom JF3 Bluetooth Headphones. "Official Training Headphones of USA Triathlon". The JayBird website promised that I could "completely forget about" my headphones. "Shakeproof" and "sweat proof'ed to the extreme". So far so good. I'm all about things "to the extreme". I started digging for reviews; all of which were very positive. But it was the following video that sold me.
I ordered my pair of JF3s with overnight shipping. They arrive today.
I tested the Armpocket on yesterday's morning run (along with my new Nike Dri-fit Miler Singlet). It (they) performed like a champ. Combined with the JF3s, some of my hydration belt/irritating wire issues should be solved. There is still the matter of the handgun, but I really don't think that running in my tactical dropleg thigh rig is going to be an option. Oh, well. Some improvement is better than none.
Perhaps I really am compensating for that sliver of doubt with new gear purchases. But the truth is, when facing down that 26.2 miles, none of that is really going to matter. It will come down to heart and drive. Cool armbands, fancy headphones, and evenly distributed gear absolutely won't carry you through the distance. Only determination will do that. And I have plenty of it...and fancy new headphones now too.
18 April 2012
Keep Up Or Fall Off
Through a series of procrastinations, I have thrown my scheduled training days off. This of course is no one's fault but my own. I completely skipped yesterday's four miler, and can not even remember how it was that I went about justifying it to myself at the time. I do remember that it was elaborate and, at the time, made absolute sense. It had something to do with getting up at an ungodly hour and getting the run in. In all fairness to myself, I was feeling exhausted and after coming home from work, went straight to bed and stayed there.
So with the foggy remnants of my justification still lingering in my head, I pulled myself out of bed at that unholy hour this morning and made my way to work, changed in the office, and headed up to the gym. I've grown less fond of treadmills than I once used to be. However, I believe that they do have their place. I once told a friend that the treadmill was a good tool for forcing yourself to maintain pace. "Keep up or fall off," I had quipped. I climbed aboard the treadmill and fired it up. No warm ups. No preamble. No sissy stretching. Just the way I like things: climb in and hang on.
From the start I noticed two things missing: the pain in my knee and the pain in my abs. Bonus. So hoping that it wasn't simply a fluke, I gradually increased the pace. The first few minutes were what I was expecting: calves and feet started their usual cramping/tightening act. That normally hangs on until around mile two, then disappears. Today was no different. You would think that my body would have learned by now and would just give up on that gag. I haven't fallen for it yet. Around two and a half miles I decided to crank up the speed a little to get a better rhythm going and to push myself. Amazingly enough nothing flew apart and I actually felt stronger. So I cranked it up some more. And some more. And once again, just for good measure. At this point I am flying. How fast? No idea. I always keep the digital display of the treadmill covered to prevent distraction from all the data: pace, time, distance, speed, etc. Plus I am seemingly always plagued by the nagging question of why it seems to take twice as long to run around the little virtual 1/4 mile track on the display than it does on an actual one. I have as of yet to review my Garmin data (calibrated to my foot pod - yes, I'm a techno geek too), because I anticipate a harsh slap of reality and I'd rather hang on to the "damn I am fast" feeling for a while longer.
The point is, that the faster I ran the stronger I felt. That is odd enough, but I'll take it. Especially considering Sunday's horrible run, I really needed today's boost. So maybe Sunday I was just fighting exhaustion. Maybe it really was the heat. Or perhaps even the time of day - I always seem to do better with early morning runs. Regardless, the run was redeeming. Now I just need to figure out how to get back on schedule, keep today's positive momentum going, and hope that the next several days are as equally redemptive.
Keep up or fall off.
So with the foggy remnants of my justification still lingering in my head, I pulled myself out of bed at that unholy hour this morning and made my way to work, changed in the office, and headed up to the gym. I've grown less fond of treadmills than I once used to be. However, I believe that they do have their place. I once told a friend that the treadmill was a good tool for forcing yourself to maintain pace. "Keep up or fall off," I had quipped. I climbed aboard the treadmill and fired it up. No warm ups. No preamble. No sissy stretching. Just the way I like things: climb in and hang on.
From the start I noticed two things missing: the pain in my knee and the pain in my abs. Bonus. So hoping that it wasn't simply a fluke, I gradually increased the pace. The first few minutes were what I was expecting: calves and feet started their usual cramping/tightening act. That normally hangs on until around mile two, then disappears. Today was no different. You would think that my body would have learned by now and would just give up on that gag. I haven't fallen for it yet. Around two and a half miles I decided to crank up the speed a little to get a better rhythm going and to push myself. Amazingly enough nothing flew apart and I actually felt stronger. So I cranked it up some more. And some more. And once again, just for good measure. At this point I am flying. How fast? No idea. I always keep the digital display of the treadmill covered to prevent distraction from all the data: pace, time, distance, speed, etc. Plus I am seemingly always plagued by the nagging question of why it seems to take twice as long to run around the little virtual 1/4 mile track on the display than it does on an actual one. I have as of yet to review my Garmin data (calibrated to my foot pod - yes, I'm a techno geek too), because I anticipate a harsh slap of reality and I'd rather hang on to the "damn I am fast" feeling for a while longer.
The point is, that the faster I ran the stronger I felt. That is odd enough, but I'll take it. Especially considering Sunday's horrible run, I really needed today's boost. So maybe Sunday I was just fighting exhaustion. Maybe it really was the heat. Or perhaps even the time of day - I always seem to do better with early morning runs. Regardless, the run was redeeming. Now I just need to figure out how to get back on schedule, keep today's positive momentum going, and hope that the next several days are as equally redemptive.
Keep up or fall off.
16 April 2012
Doubt
"The true measure of a runner isn't in time, but rather in the effort it took along the way." - Coach Jenny Hadfield, Ask Coach Jenny blog, Runner's World.comThe Kentucky Derby Marathon is a mere thirteen days away. As I taper I have seven running days left; the longest of which is an eight miler the week before the marathon. My training has been crap. My heart just hasn't been in it and my runs have reflected that. Aside from all of the normal day-to-day road blocks that have thrown themselves in front of my scheduled runs, I have also had to contend with my personal lack of motivation. I have always been my own greatest enemy, and the last 14 weeks that bastard has been working overtime.
Yesterday's long run was the beginning of my taper: a scheduled 12 miles. It was also another blow to my confidence for the KDF. I woke up late and, feeling completely drained, battled with myself for hours over getting out and starting the run. I finally forced myself out the door and to the park to begin my run around 1:30 P.M. Temperatures were already in the 80's. With only a few gels and nothing but water in my hydration belt, I had a sinking feeling that things weren't going to go well from the start. With the first few steps I could already feel the pain in my knee and the stabbing pain of my strained lower abdominal. But I came to run and I struggled through the first two miles, hoping that my body would loosen up and I could find my rhythm. By mile three I realized that wasn't going to happen. My legs felt like they were made of lead. By mile four I knew that I was in trouble. 12 miles ended at 7.5. I could have "slogged" through the other 4.5 miles, but I knew that I was risking injury if I did. This was one time that I actually chose to listen to my body instead of pushing myself based on the belief that I somehow wasn't living up to my self-perceived tough guy image.
Logically I know, that as runners, we have good runs, bad runs, and runs that land somewhere in-between. Yesterday's run was a shining example of a bad, bad run; one that, mentally, I didn't need to have with less than two weeks to go before the marathon. I could look to a variety of causes for the horrible performance or try to assign blame to things such as temperature, nutrition (or lack thereof - I hadn't eaten before setting out), or a vengeful god who thought that a consistent head wind was a pretty funny way of getting back at me for the thousand or so heresies that I'm sure I've committed this week alone. Regardless, it was the equivalent of a painful punch to the arm of my confidence.
Marathon training isn't something to be taken lightly. I have a friend who says, quite bluntly, that you can't half-ass marathon training. There is some truth to that. The mental and emotional forging is also something that absolutely can not be ignored. For those, like myself, who train solo, the hours spent alone during training runs bring you face-to-face with demons that you could never have anticipated, or perhaps would never have otherwise known. As Corey Queen very poignantly observes in his blog Fatherverse, "...this is when you feel most alone amongst everyone you know, because no one else is going through this..." [You can read the entirety of Corey's post concerning his own marathon training here.] Those who have not properly prepared for the physical and mental challenge are most certainly setting themselves up for potentially catastrophic failure.
And so a sliver of doubt has embedded itself in the back of my mind. Mentally I have faced trials that outweigh marathons. The will - the fortitude - to push myself to my limits and beyond exist without question. What is lacking is my desire, and the lack of confidence in my physical preparation gives me pause. One too many weekly runs missed. Too many long training runs that just lacked a solid feel. Aches and pains, that in other times would seem negligible, threaten to become difficult to ignore. These are things that only those who have pushed the distance can understand. Come marathon day, I will need to have made peace with all of these things; putting faith in what training I have done since January's 26.2 will be enough to carry me through. It will have to be. Because in my tough guy world there is no such thing as Did Not Finish.
14 April 2012
When Physical Therapy Isn't
In 2006 I had my knee severely injured during combatives training. I'll spare you the details, but the anterior cruciate ligament was completely torn, both menisci were torn, and the end of my femur was chipped. I underwent surgery less than a week after the injury, which included complete reconstruction of the ACL using cadaver tissue (double bundle method), repair of both menisci, and a graft to my femur. The injury itself and the recovery process rate right up there with the most difficult things that I have ever had to face. The specter of never again being able to do all of the high speed, low drag things that had always been a part of my life loomed large in front of me. For someone who prizes himself as a man-of-action, this was a terrifying prospect.
I was fortunate enough to have an extraordinary orthopedic surgeon, as well as a group of athletics oriented physical therapists who guided me through months and months of hard work. And when I say hard work, I mean painfully hard work. The muscles of my leg had atrophied. Gaining full range of motion was excruciatingly slow (emphasis on excruciating), and any attempt to do more than a fast walk felt like someone driving a spike into the end of my femur. My full rehabilitation lasted for over a year, but I'm a stubborn sonvabitch. In the end, I re-gained most of my strength, range of motion, and ability to run. It should be noted that even before the injury, I was in no way, shape, or form a "runner". I struggled with running in any context and only did what was absolutely necessary to prepare for, and survive, PT tests for my career. Never-the-less, my evolution as a distance runner would never have been possible without the skill and guidance of the doctor and the physical therapy crew.
After the One Man Running Marathon on January 6th of this year, I was immediately stricken by what some refer to as the "marathon blues"; the desire to run (any distance) was just gone. I took just over 7 weeks off from any serious running, during which time I may have ran 10 times - the longest of which was 4 miles. At the end of February I realized that I needed to jump back into training mode if I were going to make the Spring Triple Crown Races or have any chance of finishing the Kentucky Derby Marathon. So, like the bone-headed tough guy that I am, I went out for a nice 13.1 mile run. The shock to my body was not pleasant and my joints, especially my knee took a beating. During that run I had also rolled my ankle - that didn't seem serious at the time - but translated into knee pain later. The pain has lasted ever since.
Fearing that I had re-injured the soft tissues of my knee, I went back to see the same surgeon who had put me back together originally. He assured me, much to my relief, that it was simply an over-use inflammation of the joint (did I mention I hadn't stopped training during this time?) and that it was most likely the result of stress brought on by a slight limit in the range of motion of my ankle. He prescribed me Pennsaid to rub into the joint and sent me for physical therapy with a group that was different from the ones that I had last visited 5 years ago.
The visit with the new PT started out well enough. The office was crowded and very busy, but I was encouraged early on by seeing one of the PTs that I had worked with five years ago at this new location. We shook hands, embraced, and after a quick catch up he remarked how far I had come in the last five years (I'm telling you, it wasn't pretty). The PT that I was to meet with that day was a runner and after some investigative questioning he spent a decent amount of time evaluating me; everything from the strength of my extremities, to my walking gate, my posture, my balance, etc. The final conclusion was Patellofemoral Stress Syndrome as a result of weak hip muscles. Not surprisingly on the same side as the knee on which I had surgery. He recommended a series of stretches and strengthening exercises and took me out to the floor to begin with the promise that he would straighten me out so that I would have a good marathon day at the KDF.
After a 10 minute warm-up on the stationary bike, I was led through four stretches for the hamstrings and glutes. Nothing too strenuous. The exercises for increasing the strength in my hips, however, demonstrated just how weak they actually were. I used both machines and a Thera-Band to really punish my hips and glutes. While the exercises were explained to me with a brief demonstration, once I began working the technique the PT was off to manage another client. Only when I was finished with the prescribed number of sets and reps would the PT return, only to quickly demonstrate another exercise and then be off again. Now, I'm absolutely not someone who needs a baby-sitter, and I've spent more time inside gyms than some of the younger PTs there have been alive. But I felt like that my health insurance was paying a healthy price for what essentially amounted to personal training. Any good personal trainer would stick with their client to make sure that each set and each rep is done in a manner that doesn't promote injury due to fatigue, bad form, etc. The same obviously doesn't apply to the physical therapist - patient relationship. It also wasn't the same quality of care/personal attention that I had received all those years before.
The real kicker came when I was informed that I needed to strengthen my core. Placed in a plank position, my feet were hoisted into bands so that my body was semi suspended. I then did hip raises, which amounted to the equivalent of of an inverted v-up. I like to think that I have decent core strength, but this was something new and I could really feel the strain in my lower abdomen. Once multiple sets of these were complete, I was then told to hold the plank position and rotate my midsection from side to side for multiple reps and sets. When all was said and done I had the same soreness that you might experience from muscle fatigue after a good gym workout. I was told to use the stretches I had been shown daily and to come back two days later. The PT wanted to see me two days a week prior to marathon day. This is where the doubt started to set in. Something was buzzing in the back of my head and I was uncomfortable, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
As it turns out, I strained my lower abdominal muscles. To an extent that they were tender to the touch for days afterwards. This has impacted my running over the course of the last week as well. This wasn't residual soreness - this was a strain. Obviously my own fault since I really am stubborn, still think I'm 25, and push myself 100% in everything. I just over-did it. But there was also an absence of the PT to monitor me as I went through each exercise. With the marathon looming less than two weeks in the distance, this was no time for an injury. What's more, this didn't feel like physical therapy. This felt like a poorly managed personal training session. One that I'm paying for now in more ways than one. So I have elected to not return. I received the diagnosis I needed. I understand what needs to be done to correct the problem, and I don't need to bill my insurer for what I can do at home or in my own gym (as the PT was kind enough to provide me with a Thera-Band before I left the office. God knows what that cost!).
My view of physical therapy was shaped by the attention and results that I achieved those years ago when I went through hell with my knee. It was a rehabilitating, strengthening, and healing process that entailed personal attention and an obvious interest in my progress. My recent experience ended up feeling impersonal and almost assembly line like; with the end result of me being less stable (or well) than before I went in. What is even more disturbing is the number of young physical therapists who are employed there (their PT certificates on the wall less than a year or two old) who appeared to be regarding their jobs with the manner of a juice-gym desk attendant whose interest in how they look is somehow an equitable part of the equation. The more experienced guys, like the PT I met with this day and the one with whom I had worked those years ago, simply seemed pulled in a hundred different directions. The "therapeutic" piece seems to have been lost somewhere in the mix.
So for my trouble at least I am now armed with the information I need regarding what is causing my knee pain, and I also have a direction in which to go to resolve it. I'll also be quickly rehabbing my strained abs prior to marathon day. And I'll be doing it on my own. Because in the end, it all comes down to just me anyway - one man...running.
I was fortunate enough to have an extraordinary orthopedic surgeon, as well as a group of athletics oriented physical therapists who guided me through months and months of hard work. And when I say hard work, I mean painfully hard work. The muscles of my leg had atrophied. Gaining full range of motion was excruciatingly slow (emphasis on excruciating), and any attempt to do more than a fast walk felt like someone driving a spike into the end of my femur. My full rehabilitation lasted for over a year, but I'm a stubborn sonvabitch. In the end, I re-gained most of my strength, range of motion, and ability to run. It should be noted that even before the injury, I was in no way, shape, or form a "runner". I struggled with running in any context and only did what was absolutely necessary to prepare for, and survive, PT tests for my career. Never-the-less, my evolution as a distance runner would never have been possible without the skill and guidance of the doctor and the physical therapy crew.
After the One Man Running Marathon on January 6th of this year, I was immediately stricken by what some refer to as the "marathon blues"; the desire to run (any distance) was just gone. I took just over 7 weeks off from any serious running, during which time I may have ran 10 times - the longest of which was 4 miles. At the end of February I realized that I needed to jump back into training mode if I were going to make the Spring Triple Crown Races or have any chance of finishing the Kentucky Derby Marathon. So, like the bone-headed tough guy that I am, I went out for a nice 13.1 mile run. The shock to my body was not pleasant and my joints, especially my knee took a beating. During that run I had also rolled my ankle - that didn't seem serious at the time - but translated into knee pain later. The pain has lasted ever since.
Fearing that I had re-injured the soft tissues of my knee, I went back to see the same surgeon who had put me back together originally. He assured me, much to my relief, that it was simply an over-use inflammation of the joint (did I mention I hadn't stopped training during this time?) and that it was most likely the result of stress brought on by a slight limit in the range of motion of my ankle. He prescribed me Pennsaid to rub into the joint and sent me for physical therapy with a group that was different from the ones that I had last visited 5 years ago.
The visit with the new PT started out well enough. The office was crowded and very busy, but I was encouraged early on by seeing one of the PTs that I had worked with five years ago at this new location. We shook hands, embraced, and after a quick catch up he remarked how far I had come in the last five years (I'm telling you, it wasn't pretty). The PT that I was to meet with that day was a runner and after some investigative questioning he spent a decent amount of time evaluating me; everything from the strength of my extremities, to my walking gate, my posture, my balance, etc. The final conclusion was Patellofemoral Stress Syndrome as a result of weak hip muscles. Not surprisingly on the same side as the knee on which I had surgery. He recommended a series of stretches and strengthening exercises and took me out to the floor to begin with the promise that he would straighten me out so that I would have a good marathon day at the KDF.
After a 10 minute warm-up on the stationary bike, I was led through four stretches for the hamstrings and glutes. Nothing too strenuous. The exercises for increasing the strength in my hips, however, demonstrated just how weak they actually were. I used both machines and a Thera-Band to really punish my hips and glutes. While the exercises were explained to me with a brief demonstration, once I began working the technique the PT was off to manage another client. Only when I was finished with the prescribed number of sets and reps would the PT return, only to quickly demonstrate another exercise and then be off again. Now, I'm absolutely not someone who needs a baby-sitter, and I've spent more time inside gyms than some of the younger PTs there have been alive. But I felt like that my health insurance was paying a healthy price for what essentially amounted to personal training. Any good personal trainer would stick with their client to make sure that each set and each rep is done in a manner that doesn't promote injury due to fatigue, bad form, etc. The same obviously doesn't apply to the physical therapist - patient relationship. It also wasn't the same quality of care/personal attention that I had received all those years before.
The real kicker came when I was informed that I needed to strengthen my core. Placed in a plank position, my feet were hoisted into bands so that my body was semi suspended. I then did hip raises, which amounted to the equivalent of of an inverted v-up. I like to think that I have decent core strength, but this was something new and I could really feel the strain in my lower abdomen. Once multiple sets of these were complete, I was then told to hold the plank position and rotate my midsection from side to side for multiple reps and sets. When all was said and done I had the same soreness that you might experience from muscle fatigue after a good gym workout. I was told to use the stretches I had been shown daily and to come back two days later. The PT wanted to see me two days a week prior to marathon day. This is where the doubt started to set in. Something was buzzing in the back of my head and I was uncomfortable, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
As it turns out, I strained my lower abdominal muscles. To an extent that they were tender to the touch for days afterwards. This has impacted my running over the course of the last week as well. This wasn't residual soreness - this was a strain. Obviously my own fault since I really am stubborn, still think I'm 25, and push myself 100% in everything. I just over-did it. But there was also an absence of the PT to monitor me as I went through each exercise. With the marathon looming less than two weeks in the distance, this was no time for an injury. What's more, this didn't feel like physical therapy. This felt like a poorly managed personal training session. One that I'm paying for now in more ways than one. So I have elected to not return. I received the diagnosis I needed. I understand what needs to be done to correct the problem, and I don't need to bill my insurer for what I can do at home or in my own gym (as the PT was kind enough to provide me with a Thera-Band before I left the office. God knows what that cost!).
My view of physical therapy was shaped by the attention and results that I achieved those years ago when I went through hell with my knee. It was a rehabilitating, strengthening, and healing process that entailed personal attention and an obvious interest in my progress. My recent experience ended up feeling impersonal and almost assembly line like; with the end result of me being less stable (or well) than before I went in. What is even more disturbing is the number of young physical therapists who are employed there (their PT certificates on the wall less than a year or two old) who appeared to be regarding their jobs with the manner of a juice-gym desk attendant whose interest in how they look is somehow an equitable part of the equation. The more experienced guys, like the PT I met with this day and the one with whom I had worked those years ago, simply seemed pulled in a hundred different directions. The "therapeutic" piece seems to have been lost somewhere in the mix.
So for my trouble at least I am now armed with the information I need regarding what is causing my knee pain, and I also have a direction in which to go to resolve it. I'll also be quickly rehabbing my strained abs prior to marathon day. And I'll be doing it on my own. Because in the end, it all comes down to just me anyway - one man...running.
11 April 2012
Birthday Run
Monday was my birthday. I've never been big on celebrating my birthday. Why that is, I can only venture a guess. It is not a consequence of religious upbringing or some traumatic birthday experience. I simply have never assigned it that much importance. Repeated prodding by my friends and family for gift ideas have always been met with a stock answer: "I just want to be left alone." Now some might consider that to be inconsiderate or rude, but rest assured that I have always thanked them for their consideration and desire to observe my "special day". I enjoy my solitude. I always have. And with the ever increasing pace of life and the demands placed on my time, solitude becomes a very rare treasure indeed.
So in the early dawn, before the sun had broken the horizon, I laced up my running shoes and drove out to one of the local parks for a private gift to myself: a solo twenty mile run. There was not a soul around as I climbed out of the car. Local traffic was nearly non-existent. Wrapped in the darkness of pre-dawn I started out along the roadway that would lead me from one local park to another; my solitude only interrupted by the occasional song of birds as they began to stir. For the next several hours I enjoyed the time alone. Enjoyed the sense of pushing myself. Enjoyed the rush of my breath and the thundering of my heart in my own ears; even as I considered my "age", my mortality, and the ever increasing flow of time to which I now seem much more acutely aware.
Although I carried my iPhone with me, I refrained from listening to music as I ran; choosing to only put my earbuds in when traffic along the roadway increased to a constant that I could no longer ignore. The choice of wearing my new Brooks Addiction 10 shoes for the first time on a twenty mile run probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to do. My favorite running store no longer carry the trusty Addiction 9 in my size as the model is now over two years old. My feet and calves took a beating and cramped up several times after the 17 mile point, but I pushed on. Often I'm too stubborn, even for my own good. I'm pleased to say, however, that there were no lasting ill effects from having done so. My stamina was boosted by the replacement of water in my hydration belt with Gatorade G2 (low calorie - fruit punch). As well as alternating between Cliff Shot Bloks and PowerBar Energy Blast chews. This was also the first time that I had used chews as opposed to gels and I was very pleased with the results.
As the morning progressed the parks began to fill with people; most with their children on Spring break from school. Traffic increased. Bikers zipped past in their body suits, their pedals spinning at a rate that seemed mismatched with the speed of their wheels. I passed several other runners - some who acknowledged me with waves and smiles and others who, like me, wanted only to focus on their own internal processes; passing silently, stoically by.
At the end of my run - which had started in solitude, darkness, and (relative) silence - the sun was shining brightly from overhead, and I was surrounded by the dynamic of moving people and the laughter of children and families. There are, of course, a plethora of analogies that I could make regarding my birthday run and life. But perhaps each person should draw their own unique parallels. The musician Seal once said that he does not publish the lyrics to his songs because each person is entitled to their own interpretation of the music. So I shall leave this recanting of my run for your consideration. Just know that it was, perhaps, the best gift that I could give.
So in the early dawn, before the sun had broken the horizon, I laced up my running shoes and drove out to one of the local parks for a private gift to myself: a solo twenty mile run. There was not a soul around as I climbed out of the car. Local traffic was nearly non-existent. Wrapped in the darkness of pre-dawn I started out along the roadway that would lead me from one local park to another; my solitude only interrupted by the occasional song of birds as they began to stir. For the next several hours I enjoyed the time alone. Enjoyed the sense of pushing myself. Enjoyed the rush of my breath and the thundering of my heart in my own ears; even as I considered my "age", my mortality, and the ever increasing flow of time to which I now seem much more acutely aware.
Although I carried my iPhone with me, I refrained from listening to music as I ran; choosing to only put my earbuds in when traffic along the roadway increased to a constant that I could no longer ignore. The choice of wearing my new Brooks Addiction 10 shoes for the first time on a twenty mile run probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to do. My favorite running store no longer carry the trusty Addiction 9 in my size as the model is now over two years old. My feet and calves took a beating and cramped up several times after the 17 mile point, but I pushed on. Often I'm too stubborn, even for my own good. I'm pleased to say, however, that there were no lasting ill effects from having done so. My stamina was boosted by the replacement of water in my hydration belt with Gatorade G2 (low calorie - fruit punch). As well as alternating between Cliff Shot Bloks and PowerBar Energy Blast chews. This was also the first time that I had used chews as opposed to gels and I was very pleased with the results.
As the morning progressed the parks began to fill with people; most with their children on Spring break from school. Traffic increased. Bikers zipped past in their body suits, their pedals spinning at a rate that seemed mismatched with the speed of their wheels. I passed several other runners - some who acknowledged me with waves and smiles and others who, like me, wanted only to focus on their own internal processes; passing silently, stoically by.
At the end of my run - which had started in solitude, darkness, and (relative) silence - the sun was shining brightly from overhead, and I was surrounded by the dynamic of moving people and the laughter of children and families. There are, of course, a plethora of analogies that I could make regarding my birthday run and life. But perhaps each person should draw their own unique parallels. The musician Seal once said that he does not publish the lyrics to his songs because each person is entitled to their own interpretation of the music. So I shall leave this recanting of my run for your consideration. Just know that it was, perhaps, the best gift that I could give.
09 April 2012
Beginnings
I have long struggled with the question of starting a blog. With the explosion of social media, intentionally placing oneself - your daily experiences, your most intimate thoughts and feelings - in a venue for the world-at-large to follow seems to have become commonplace. For myself, having by and large enjoyed a healthy sense of privacy, the prospect of doing so seems counterintuitive.
My perspective has changed somewhat, however, as I have become acquainted in the last year or so with many new friends who maintain their own blogs, sharing themselves and their interests online. It has been a pleasure to follow along with them and our shared interests with a frequency that otherwise would not have been possible without their blog entries. What is more I have always had a secret love affair with the written word. The pace of my life and the demands placed upon it have caused me to long neglect this mistress.
Therefore I have elected (perhaps on a trial basis) to begin my own personal blog in the interest of sharing my thoughts, interests, and experiences with my friends as well as those of you who should find this blog. This, of course, will also provide me with an opportunity to indulge in the practice of my own writing.
And so, to those who have found your way here, I bid you welcome. This is where we begin.
My perspective has changed somewhat, however, as I have become acquainted in the last year or so with many new friends who maintain their own blogs, sharing themselves and their interests online. It has been a pleasure to follow along with them and our shared interests with a frequency that otherwise would not have been possible without their blog entries. What is more I have always had a secret love affair with the written word. The pace of my life and the demands placed upon it have caused me to long neglect this mistress.
Therefore I have elected (perhaps on a trial basis) to begin my own personal blog in the interest of sharing my thoughts, interests, and experiences with my friends as well as those of you who should find this blog. This, of course, will also provide me with an opportunity to indulge in the practice of my own writing.
And so, to those who have found your way here, I bid you welcome. This is where we begin.
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