Heat Stroke: It's What's for Dinner

I was feeling restless yesterday so I went for a run. It was after 5pm but it was May in Florida so it was 110 degrees with 110 percent humidity. I was going to run a quick five miles, which turned into five kilometers at the top of the hill less than a quarter of a mile into the run. I’ve been running pretty regularly for more than two years but it still shocks the hell out of me how much difference the temperature makes in running performance. I hadn’t run in a couple of weeks but I’ve been doing a lot on the elliptical machine so I’m in decent cardiovascular shape. I wasn’t pushing myself because I knew my legs weren’t up for anything serious. I was refusing to let myself run the first mile in less than ten minutes. My attitude had changed three minutes in at the top of the hill to just do three miles. I was inhaling but I guess the part of the world I was running in was low on oxygen because I was getting nothing. Why doesn’t oxygen work over eighty degrees? If it’s seventy degrees or cooler I can dial in at about a ten minute mile and run forever. Training for the River Run was fun. Running yesterday was agony. It didn’t help that I had just finished a couple of helpings of spaghetti right before I ran. I was wondering if I would slow down if I started to feel sick or would I just blow chunks on the sidewalk like it was nothing because I wanted the run to be over. Fortunately, I never had to make that choice. I ran 3.2 miles in just over thirty minutes, which should have been no big deal, and I’m feeling it today. My legs are sore and they shouldn’t be. Unfortunately, I’m at a macho crossroads. On the one hand, I’m thinking about running before dawn because it’s fun and relatively pain free. On the other hand, I’m thinking about running at 2pm everyday and seeing if I can get used to it.

…to be continued.

The Cruel Tutelage of The Master Pai Mei

Last Tuesday I wrote about having to sit through a ridiculous training where I had PowerPoint slides read to me, and that I was surfing YouTube because I wouldn’t remember any of the training even if I did pay attention, and Lincoln was going to change it anyway. At 9:08 am EDT this morning, less than a week later, I got an email saying the whole system is being scrapped and we’re going back to the way it was. Man is it hard being right all the time – Rush Limbaugh and me. I made it to the gym this morning and the squats went about as I expected. My legs are mush. I didn’t even push it this morning. I was smart. I warmed up on the elliptical to get the blood going. I eased into my routine. And this is the part where I was smart, I allowed myself an extra minute between sets to let my legs figure out what was going on, and put a stop to it. I knew I would feel great at the beginning, and I did, but I also knew that if I wasn’t careful I’d wind up walking like Fred Sanford for the next week. Squats hit everything below the belly button, and running doesn’t stress the hamstrings the way squats do. They’re not really the goal of the exercise, but they have to get used to their support role or they’ll pop. Pulling a hammy is a good laxative or more precisely, it can be a good enema. The pain is at its full intensity instantly. It’s horrible, and there’s no way to take all of the pressure off your legs. I had finished a set and I was waiting the extra minute when I caught a twinge in the back of my leg. I was about to add another 90 lbs. to the bar. Instead, the party was over. I packed up my stuff, and nobody had to go to the hospital. I’m going to spend the rest of the day drinking water and gently stretching my legs in the desperate hope that I can avoid as much of the inevitable soreness as possible. Squats are a harsh mistress but I’m glad they’re back.

The Gate River Run and The Evil Hart Bridge

The Gate River Run was brutal. It was the first time I’ve ever considered not finishing a race. I felt great for the first six and a half miles and then my legs said, “We’re done.” I have no idea what happened, maybe it was the lack of sleep over the past week. Maybe I lost too much weight this week. I dropped seven pounds. I don’t know what it was. I just know that I gassed. I struggled along fine, just in pain, which I can deal with. I slowed my pace down to eleven and a half minutes a mile and stopped at every water station. Then I started up that green summbitch, which I swear goes up a lot more than it comes down. This is where I thought about quitting. I started to feel funny, and I stopped running and started walking. My mind kept telling me to go go go, and if I didn’t have my heart monitor on I probably would have pushed it. Fortunately, I did have it on and knew that my heart rate should be under 175 since I was walking. My hamstrings were killing me going up that damned bridge. I just wanted it to be over so I would run for 100 steps. It had to have taken me ten minutes to get to the top of that thing. Coming down was easy. I basically fell down the bridge. This was one of my least favorite races. I felt like crap. It’s too long for me to run alone. I was bored. I should have worn my iPod or stayed with EG and JG. If this had been a 10k instead of a 15k it would have been one of my favorites. The last three miles were just awful. One positive was the massive amount of Seminole love coming from the spectators. I saw a couple of people I didn’t expect to see, which was cool in the first couple of miles, but I got passed on the Hart Bridge by someone who tapped me on the shoulder and waved at me. I waved back but I have no idea who she was. I finished almost exactly at my goal time, but I wasn’t really able to finish strong. As bad as this race was for me, it was still a positive experience, and I’m looking forward to next years. I ran eighteen minutes faster this year than I did two years ago, so that’s the bench mark for next year – 1:25 – and no I didn’t learn anything.

Everything I Said About Florida Yesterday Was Bulls**t.

The River Run is less than a week away, and drinking too much beer and not getting enough sleep didn’t lend itself to a good session today. It’s a lesson I would think that I had learned by now. I didn’t drink a whole bunch of beer in beer drinking terms, but it was enough to affect how I ran today. Daylight savings time has thrown my internal clock off, so I wound up running at noon. It was 76 degrees during my four miles today, and the sun was beating down, forcing me to sweat more than I’m used to at this time of year. I cursed myself for the last forty-four minutes of my forty-five minute run. Why didn’t I eat right? Why didn’t I get out early this morning? Why did I sign up for this stupid race? I felt a little bit better as I passed runners who were in the same boat that I was in. Daylight savings time really is a bitch. I passed by three runners that had stopped in the middle of nowhere to stretch a calf, catch their breath, or hold on to a tree while trying desperately not to vomit into the St. Johns. I think my biggest mistake was running with my iPod. When I run with my music I unconsciously pace myself by the song that’s playing. I should running behind St. Vincent’s before Dem Franchise Boyz are done. I was almost a quarter mile short today. It really messed with my head. It was like watching a familiar movie with the soundtrack shifted back five minutes, nothing matches up anymore. On the bright side, I’m glad this happened Monday instead of Thursday. I think I sweat out all the beer. I’m definitely going to bed early tonight. I’m eating right, and I have five days to recover.

Interval Training In The Cold

Oh my goodness does interval training hurt. I am so glad it is out of the way until next Monday, even though I’m thinking about adding another session Friday or Saturday. Hopefully, I can come up with some excuses not to do it. I did 10x400 again on the track, and reps four through ten were nightmares. I thought the cold weather would make it easier. I think it made it harder, or maybe I’m doing it wrong. I run 400 meters in under two minutes and fifteen seconds and then I rest for a minute – rinse and repeat. The first two reps are fun. I’m haulin’ ass. I’m thinking about my stride. I’m pumping my arms. I’m running the turns. I’m not pacing myself at all, which is dumb. I’m running as fast as is comfortable, and I finish the two reps at sub seven minute paces. That’s way too fast, but I’m from the school of “if it’s not hurting then you’re not working”. The third rep is my body figuring out what’s going on and starting to hurt in the last hundred meters. I guess I’m working now. Everything else is me hanging on for dear life. Reps four through ten are torture. I may get fifty yards into them before I want to quit. I don’t pay attention to where I am on the track or how far I have to go before rep four, and the minute break seems like a long time. Reps four and after I know exactly how far I have to go and I start getting antsy if my Garmin doesn’t start beeping to let me know I have less than fifty feet left when I KNOW that I’ve run more than a quarter mile. During the seventh rep I looked at my watch, certain that I had less than a hundred feet to go; I had 351. I almost started crying. Fortunately, interval training pays immediate dividends because if it didn’t I would not be doing it. I think this is my third session and I can run comfortably at a pace thirty seconds faster than when I added them. What’s funny is my perception. I swear my watch is cheating me out of rest time as the workout goes on. There’s no way that was a minute. That was eight seconds at the most!!!

I Really Wish Fitness Was Easy

Jesus did my back seize up. I spent too much time in the car this week, and it’s killing my lower back. I ran southwest today instead of northeast, and the route is much more hilly. There’s a pretty big dip at about a quarter mile into my run, and running up the steep incline did not please my lower back. I was feeling great. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought that resting yesterday would give it a chance to recover. I forgot that I spent an hour in the car yesterday going to the beach. I had a lot of fun at the beach, but I guess my back didn’t. I pretended it didn’t hurt and kept pushing myself to the next stop sign. Just make it to the next stop sign and you can quit. Okay, just make it to the next stop sign and you can quit. Then I got to the bottom of the second big dip on my southwest course, and my back quit. I had to stop running or I was going to fall down. It really frustrated me because I was bouncing along at a nice clip. I was excited because my cardio fitness is better than it has been in a long time. For the third and fourth miles of the run I’d walk a minute then run a minute or as long as my back would let me. I finished my last lap around Boone’s Park as my Garmin hit 4 miles. I had a mile and a quarter, and both dips home. I said screw it, found a position that put as little stress on my lower back as possible and toughed it out. I think it may have gotten warmed up or the kink may have worked itself out because I finished the last mile and a quarter in less than nine and a half minutes. Like I said, my cardio is great. I’m going to do some extra stretching and deadlifts are getting put on the shelf until after the River Run.

Everyday You're Upright Is A Good Day

I did a biathlon thing today. I rode my bike fifteen miles, hopped off that summbitch and ran three. Running on pre-fatigued legs is fun. I like it when I have to think about not falling on my face every step I take because I don’t know if my thighs are strong enough to support me. Running on pre-fatigued lungs is fun too. I bet it feels like somebody OD’ing on a speedball. I also learned that a still beating human heart works as long as it doesn’t shoot out one’s mouth. I can’t imagine how it’s humanly possible to do the Ironman – 2.5 mile ocean swim, 110 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run – but it is. I see people finish it every year on T.V. I also know somebody, personally, that’s finished it. I’m not anywhere close to being ready for the Ironman. I am close to being ready for the River Run, which I plan on treating like a white collar convict in a maximum security prison – don’t let me catch you standing up to pee. I forgot to mention that I have a kiddy-seat on the back of my bike that acts like a parachute. As positive as I am about my fitness right now, the constant pain I’m in is threatening to take its toll on me. My ankles still hurt. My shins hurt. My thighs hurt. My neck hurts. My lower back hurts. I’m flexible like a baseball bat, and I’m too sore to stretch for any length of time. I’m only comfortable when my muscles are hot; not warm, hot. I’m thinking about moving into one of the saunas at the Y. The only reason I got the bike out today was because my legs were too stiff to run, and I didn’t want to take twenty minutes to warm up in the back yard. Getting old is a drag, but then I remember what the philosopher Westley says, “Life is pain; anyone telling you different is selling something.”

That's Not A Moon. It's A Fat Guy Running

I stepped on the scale today and was not happy with the numbers that came up. So I threw on my Swoops and took off on a run. I may have mentioned that I’m throwing myself into my job, and in doing so, I haven’t had time to workout. I had to cut my workout short yesterday because of a meeting, and I didn’t even schedule one today for the same reason. On the one hand LMJ is not going to have to worry as much about the community college she chooses, but on the other hand I don’t want to have to be the first contestant on The Biggest Loser who’s a complete jackass. Just because I’m a vomitous blob doesn’t mean I won’t make fun of the other food addicts. Women across the world will tell their husbands and boyfriends what a jerk I am, especially since I’m the fattest one on the show. The husbands and boyfriends will try their best to hide their laughter behind their beers. Anyway, I ran my normal 5.5 mile course this afternoon through Riverside towards downtown. A full two miles of it are along the St. Johns which makes it beautiful, but the stretch behind St. Vincent’s runs me through two smoking stations twice. The second time through is in the last half mile and makes me wish I carried a gun to speed up the smoker’s slow suicide. It would have to be a .22 or something small like that because I don’t want the extra weight. It’s awful running through the smokers. I swear I can smell them 200 yards away on my return run. It’s not so bad on the way out. On the way out I pity the fools (Mr. T). It’s partly my fault. If cheeseburgers weren’t my not so secret lover, I’d be closer to svelte. If cheeseburgers weren’t my not so secret lover, I wouldn’t be in so much pain right now – my feet and ankles are shot. But it’s January 6, and I still have a full two months to get ready for the River Run. I cruised at an easy pace that I could keep for another four miles, which would have me finishing the River Run in less than 100 minutes. I’m excited. I didn’t even mention the 1100 calories I burned.

'09 Strategy

I was looking at some old posts of mine, back when I wrote about exercise and pain, looking for a list of my fitness goals. I fell short of my race goal of ten. I only ran eight – six if you count the Tour de Pain as one race – but I was closer than I thought I was. I’ve gained eight pounds, but I thought I’d gained twenty-eight. I was already getting fat before the end of last year, and I’m already dropping it before the beginning of next year. Not failing horribly has inspired me to get a head start. I’m training for the River Run and I’m scheduling the other nine races now. That way they’ll be on my calendar and I can forget about them until Outlook reminds me. Then I can moan and groan about how much I hate to run. I’m changing one ridiculous goal to something more reasonable. I will never finish the River Run in under an hour – that’s stupid. I’m not running a 15k at a 6 ½ minute mile pace. Do I look like I’m from Kenya? An hour and a half is much more reasonable. It’s not that the hour pace is physically impossible, but it would require intense interval training, and interval training hurts- a lot. I’ve added it to my regimen once a week and it’s zero fun. I don’t look forward to lung burn the same way I do muscle burn. Muscle burn creeps up in a gradual way, increasing in intensity with each rep. It’s weakness leaving the body. Lung burn kicks in instantly as soon as the body starts burning sugar, and there’s no warning. It’s life leaving the body. Everything is exhilarating and then it’s excruciating a step later. I don’t know how long interval training will be in the regimen, but right now it’s the only actual running I’m doing. I’m swimming and doing the elliptical machine for my calorie burning and muscle recovery. Long runs will only be added when I have a race coming up, and only so I can get used to a comfortable pace. I’m done tearing up my feet, ankles, and knees for no reason. Actually, it’s has more to do with me being cheap. I don’t care about my body; it heals, but shoes are expensive. I don’t know if I’m going to become that guy who carries his running shoes to the start line, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I can tell that I’m getting into a routine because I hate everyone at the gym. I’m finishing ’08 strong both mentally and physically.