After the fall

Everyone is gonna fall down sooner or later (hopefully, not on TV where you have to shout that you can't get up). You started out as a toddler going crash and boom and now that you have graduated to adult toys, you are simply going to have to accept the fact that one day, you will meet asphalt/concrete/dirt/rocks in an unpleasant manner. Just looky at the Tour d' France guys. A primo ad for bandaids.

Most falls happen on a bike. Some will happen on a run--yes, I've fallen nicely while running. I guess you could fall when swimming but I'm trying to picture how. Maybe on your way to the pool or while getting out (as we get older, those nice ladders look way more interesting than the hoist up on the side from the hips action. What's really funny--or not--is when you try that move and fail. Like I have. Several times. In a row).

THE RUN

My big running crash was about 3 years ago. I was in training for my first half marathon and had a 7 mile run scheduled that day. It was not starting out to be a good day for running; it was a warm day in late February (this is Texas. We can get 90 degree days in February, okay? Just remember that we also get 110 degree days in July and you can feel better about all of that). I had obligations that morning so the run was in the afternoon; not my favorite time of day to run and especially not when it's warm. I was already tired as well, but the show must go on. I strapped on my Garmin and my running shoes and headed out the door.

I had already decided to take a little bit different route for my run than before. I lived (back then) out in the boonies and there was a little dirt/rock road that branched off of my main running road that looked quite intriguing. I had walked a bit of that road the other day and the dirt looked firm and dry and inviting to someone who is always searching for a way to avoid asphalt pounding.

So off I went to Adventureland, trotting down this new road under these huge trees and enjoying myself immensely, or as much as you can enjoy yourself while running tired in the heat of the day. For about a mile this semi euphoria lasted. Then the road started deteriorating on me, and rapidly. First there were the huge ruts from the latest Bubba off roading parties that I had to dodge. Then the rocks became more numerous and larger, followed by large water filled holes everywhere.

A smart runner (nb: not me) would have turned around at this point and gone back to the old, asphalt route, but no, I was determined that this would get better if I just stuck out the bad parts.

I was ruminating on whether the bad parts were ever going to end when somehow I stepped in a hole, on a rock, through a rut--doesn't matter, but suddenly I was no longer vertical but was headed for the ground.

OF COURSE I put out my hand to block my fall and I hit the dirt/rock/gravel hard, taking a full Nelson twist and saying words that do not make themselves for repetition on a blogsite.

When I stopped the dryer tumble, I was sitting up with a broken Garmin dangling from my wrist (fortunately it had taken the majority of the impact rather than my arm. However, the owner's manual does not advise doing that) and both my knees were scraped raw and bleeding hard. I scrambled up, found nothing broken, and assessed the damage.

I was 1.5 miles from home, and I still had 4.5 miles to do if I was going to finish my scheduled run. Determined (read: crazy), I folded my broken-strap Garmin (which by the way, I fixed later with one of those black plastic ties, and thus it serves me today in that fashion) into my fuel belt, wiped off my knees with my (dirty) hands, and started running again. Yeah, now I noticed a definite twinge to my right knee. But I'm not quitting.

About a half mile later, I encountered the Wolf Pack. Okay, they were actually Minature Pinchsers, but there were SEVEN of them charging me all at once, maddened I am sure by the sight and smell of my blood, if not the Gu gel in my belt. This was the boonies, no leash laws (not that such things ever make a difference to some people) and no owner in sight. One dadgummed little donut of a dog latched its teeth INTO MY SHOE as I tried to hobble past. Instinctively I lashed out a Chuck Norris high kick, sending this annoyance about 30 feet in the air just like an extra point in football. At which point the owner shows up (an overweight lady in a nightgown--now remember this was 2 p.m.) outside her trailer, hollering at me to NOT HURT HER DOGS, DADGUMMIT. Which are still charging me and showing their teeth.

I'm a dog person. I have six of my own (on a leash or behind a fence). I'm bleeding, my knee is singing Ave Maria, and there are six small rats snapping at my heels. I do the wise thing and simply decide this is the time and place for a fartlek, and thus I hit high gear and run away from all this hysteria, forgetting for a moment that I will need to GO BACK THAT WAY to get home.

I outpace the pack, stop to take a drink and re-assess the situation. I decide to keep running. And it's getting hot now, about 90 degrees, and my knees are streaming blood down into my shoes. And now I realize I have to run back through the Wolf Pack.

About 4 miles into this run, I've had enough. I rip out my phone and call my husband to come get me. Now. I'm bleeding all over the road here.

My husband then informs me that he just tore his ACL playing basketball.

It was a long night.

(PS yes, I did recover and run the half marathon, and no, I never ran down that road again).

THE BIKE

Bike falls are generally more tramautic in nature because (a) it's a longer way down and (b) you are going faster. Now there are bike falls that happen because you forgot to unclip and you topple over at a stoplight (always a spectator thrill), but the majority of Bad Bike Falls come when you are going fast. This is why you wear a helmet.

I was crusing around White Rock Lake one very windy afternoon (wind was gusting up to 40 mph) and I was headed down to the aerobars from an upright position. I was still not totally comfortable on the bars, and getting from Point A (upright) to Point B (folded over like an envelope with your elbows steering) involves some, well, balance. I socked left elbow into the cup and was on my way down with right elbow when a particularly nasty blow of wind gusted and simply twisted my handlebars 180 degrees (that would mean they were facing me, not a good thing when you are cruising down a small hill about 18 mph). I had time to yell "this is gonna hurt!" (as if that were news), my feet yanked upwards trying vainly to defy the clips, and I went head over teakettle onto the concrete, striking with my shoulder first and my knee second and doing a complete somersault away from the bike.

It took a moment for me to blink and realize I was mostly still intact, although my shoulder felt like it had been hit by a NFL linebacker. I sat up and told myself "you're all right" (my favorite mantra, even if it's not true). I didn't move much more than that, however, and I couldn't assemble my thoughts long enough to stand up, look at my bike, or look at my knee (same knee as the run! 4 years later!). Some kind runner (thank you) stopped and asked if I was okay (of course I said yes. I lied). He fortunately didn't believe me and helped me to my feet, and then picked up my bike (oh yeah, the bike!). It had a crooked front wheel that he straightened with his bare hands (this was not a young dude, and if I wasn't already married to the most wonderful man in the universe, I would have married him right then) and suggested I go clean up my knee, and my shoulder, both of which were oozing things not appropriate for a bike ride.

Yet, I was halfway 'round the lake already. I could turn around (4 miles back) or keep going (4.5 miles forward) to get to my car. I choose to get on the bike and keep going. I was wobbly and sore, but I managed to get to the car. This was six weeks before my first Olympic triathlon. I was Not Happy.

I ended up with a Grade 2 shoulder separation (nasty thing and it limited my swimming for about 30 days) and a lot of ugly road rash. What I also ended up with was a healthy dose of FEAR of FALLING.

For about four weeks, I was unable to go down on my aerobars at all. I was afraid of falling again. Finally, I was able to force myself down, but only for a little bit at a time. Any rut, shadow, person, car, dog, bird, squirrel, wind, leaf, or grass clipping in my vision would cause me to sit up in panic and grab for the normal handlebars. I was also afraid to go fast. I would feather the brakes on big downhills and slow down dramatically on turns and whenever I saw something/someone that might be a crash potential. Not six weeks later I nearly had another spill when a clueless walker stepped right in front of my bike, which didn't help my mindset too much.

I'm mostly recovered from the willies now, although not completely. I'm now back on my aerobars most of my ride, I now arrow down the hills and am taking my turns more aggressively. Still, the memory of The Fall is very clear in my mind. I still find fear on some steep downhills and sharp turns. I read that a little fear increases your edge, but I'd like it to be a little less than I have now.

Still, I grit my teeth when I'm feeling anxious on the bike and just go for it. Life's short. Push the pedals. Do, or do not. Yoda and all.

Friday night was a 2000 easy swim, Saturday was off (weight training), Sunday was an easy brick and yesterday was a 5 mile long run at an easy pace--it was hot and humid at 6:45 a.m. and I broke a record for sweating. Tonight is a short bike and we leave tomorrow for Wyoming and cooler weather for a couple of days. I'll be off training other than running, although we will be hiking quite a bit, including one difficult and long hike.

T

Do You Really Want to Hurt Me

I seem to be on a 70-80's song kick, but can't apologize for that. Those songs are in my head. Yes, even Culture Club. Yick.

Injuries and pain are common bedfellows for older athletes (actually, for all athletes, but us older ones whine more about it). Although exercising is without any doubt GOOD for you, there is no question that repetitive motion and pounding will take its toll on you, if you aren't careful out there. The most common causes of injury in us older folk are overtraining (pushing too hard, or not resting enough) and fall down and go boom situations (usually on the bike, but I have also fallen quite easily on a run).

Last night I was so pleased with my run. It was a 3.92 mile run done in 45 minutes, which breaks an 11:30 min mile, which has been so hard for me to do while obeying my heart monitor. This tells me that my coach has been right all along (amazing!), and my aerobic level is starting to become more efficient. (when I first started with the heart monitor, I was running about a 13 min mile in order to keep the pace within the aerobic ranges--now, I could actually physically run an 8:00 mile, but my heart rate was where the space station is at when I did). It was around 79 degrees and sprinkling (I LOVE running in the rain, I feel like a kid again) although very humid. Sleeveless running top and shorts and iPod set to "Danger Zone" to start.

About mile 3 my right hamstring started talking to me. This hamstring began our converation about 3 weeks before my Oly tri in May. I have never had a hamstring issue before so I sorta ignored the thing and during the 6.2 mile run of the tri it really sang Ave Maria to me. Since the race, I have been very cautious with it, trying to run slower and not as far, but it's been hanging around whispering a bit to me, although some days it's quiet, like yesterday.

Now, the hamstring followed a nasty grade 2 shoulder separation in early April from a stupid bike fall (are there any smart bike falls?) AND a chronic bursitis issue that flared up 18 months ago on my left hip, which I have pretty much gotten under control with stretching, but it also occasionally reminds me that it's still around waiting quietly. I am paying for my orthopedic doctor's kids' college tuitions (he's a runner, so he is always sympathetic. I recommend finding an ortho who is an athlete).

I'm frustrated because I don't want to stop or slow my running down to heal this hamstring. I might be able to just run short and flat for a while (hills really make it talk louder). At this same time, I also know in my head and heart that an injury that is not getting better is getting worse. And the older (and less flexible) you are, the worse it will get if you don't nip it in the bud. Training smart is way better than training stupid.

I've asked my coach for advice and am going to start stretching a bit (when my muscles are warm) and icing. I don't have any more running this week anyway. If it doesn't improve by next week, I'm going on a long running vacation, which will allow me to improve my bike so much that I will be ready for the Tour de France.

Except for the hamstring, it was a good run for me. I ate a granola bar (140 calories) about 45 minutes before the 7 p.m. run, and made sure to eat a balanced meal (I had canteloupe, green beans and pork) within the "magic hour" afterwards. Research shows if you eat a good protein/carb snack or meal within an hour of a workout you will recover quicker and build more muscle. I don't have any issue with eating at any time, so this works for me. Even if you just chomp a banana, you will do yourself some good.

Take care of yourself, both the inner and outer athelte!

Baby We Were Born to Run

Last night was a quick, 32 minute run outside and by 7 p.m. it had cooled down to an amazing 86 degrees, although there was a brisk south wind to blow you around.

I strapped on the heart monitor torture device (not that it hurts, but it is always like a blinking yellow light to me: my legs always want to go faster, but my monitor always says, like a good Mary Poppins, no no no, slow down my dear) because this was scheduled as an easy run. I can't figure out what easy is, so my heart monitor does it for me. If I stay within a certain zone, I can be assured I'm running easy. That also means SLOW. Sometimes I think I can knit a full aghan in the time I run in my aerobic zones, but I am determined to make this program work out right. If the schedule says easy, by golly, I'm going to make like eggs and go over easy, even if walking great-grandmothers pass me.

The first half mile of any run for me is complete exhaustion. Doesn't matter if it's a 3 mile jog or a 14 mile long run. I start out worried, slow, and totally convinced I am never going to get more than 300 yards down the road before my systems all collapse and I go down on the asphalt. I mind trick myself through this horror by promising myself I can walk at a mile if I am still feeling totally winded. Around 3/4 of a mile I finally fall into a bit of a rhythm, and by a mile, I'm usually not wanting to take that walk break (although if it's really hot or I'm very tired it may happen). It's just all about tricking yourself mentally, because physically, I know I can run up to 6 miles without stopping if I go slow enough. Do what it takes to get you through the rough spots. Mine is always just starting out.

My spouse joined me for part of the run, which made it more fun to have someone to run next to. We don't talk much--both of us have our iPods crammed onto our heads--but we nod and gesture and check each other's heart rates and slow down or speed up accordingly. I'm mostly a solitary trainer--I like the peace and quiet of working out alone after a long day at work--but I do enjoy having company at times, especially on the long bike rides. Jim was a fast runner in his salad days and I can see it coming back for him, so running together with him is probably going to be temporary, so I'm enjoying it while I can.

Anyway. Around mile 2 the endorphins kicked in. Let me explain. This doesn't always happen, and when it does, it's just so much fun. You can call it runner's high, or getting into the zone, or whatever, but often on runs (sometimes on the bike, and I've had it happen once or twice on a swim) your breathing slows, your feet start moving easy, the sun and sky and road and trees all seem part of the plan, and your tiredness just drops away. You think to yourself, THIS IS WHY I RUN.

This usually happens toward the end of a run, when you are tiring, for some reason and unfortunately, at least for me, it never lasts long. Suddenly I'm tired, sweaty, hot and my lungs hurt. And it doesn't happen all the time. Still, when it does, you will know it and mark it as a good run day.

I only ran an 11:47 minute mile speed for a total of 2.72 miles, but I kept my heart rate low, and enjoyed the short run because it had been a stressful day at work. I didn't need to stop and walk, and the wind, although it was a PIA to run into, was fun to have at my back when I made the turn. I flung my arms out wide and let it carry me along like a six year old kid.

Baby, we were all born to run.

It's not the heat, it's the hot that will kill ya

I don't know who thinks running in the heat is fun. Okay, my spouse does. But I'm not convinced he isn't from Mars, that planet close to the sun.

You sweat, you get overheated, you get tireder faster, and oh yeah, you smell terrific when you're done.

Other than that, it's simply a great time.

I mustered out a 45 min run at 7 p.m. last night when the thermometer was chanting 96 degrees and a 98 degree heat index--so really, not that much humidity. So it WAS the heat after all.

I ran slow--I saw a few snails passing me--only 3.7 miles for my 45 minutes (did I mention that there was a brisk SW wind? And that most of my run was uphill into that wind? Or so it seemed?). I ran steady, but took two walk breaks of 2 minutes each at 15 and 30 minutes, because my heart monitor, after the first five minutes of this fun, was ringing the bell that I was pushing myself too hard out there. Your heart rate wiil increase as you work harder (duh) and the heat will really make your body work harder.

However, I have to admit this: two months ago I would never have even considered running in 96 degree weather without a hungry lion chasing me. After 3 weeks of running in the blast furnace that is Texss springtime, it really is getting easier. I had scoffed at the acclimation idea, but let's face it, it works. I am never going to really enjoy running in the heat, but I'm getting better at it.

Let's see if I still agree with this when the heat hits triple digets--which it is supposed to do on Saturday.

Here's some hints for running in the heat:

Hydrate. This does not mean downing a bottle of water ten minutes before your run, which you will carry sloshing around with you. This means hydrating adequately all day long before your run, or if your run is in the morning, the night before. Avoid caffiene and alcohol which will dehydrate you.

Fuel. Eat a small snack 30-90 minutes before the run--something with protein and carbs like a half peanut butter sandwhich or a banana and yogurt. Don't overeat in the heat.

Go slow. Slower than you think you should. Even slower than that. This is not the time to worry about your split times or to try and do a PR run. Save those runs for cooler days.

Rest if you need to. If you use a heart monitor, let it be your guide. If not, don't go over your perceived exertion level (3 max on a hot day) and walk for a while if you need to. Get your miles or minutes in total, but take it easy.

Run smart. Keep hot day runs for early morning and late evening. Avoid high noon through 6 p.m. if possible.

Dress cool. Wear light colored clothing--black doesn't reflect heat--that is loose and comfortable. Ditch the cotton--it won't breathe and will retain sweat.

Now a word to those of you with families and spouses. It's critical that you have the unrelenting support of these guys to do a triathlon training program, whether it's a short sprint or a full Ironman (TM) (did you know Iromman (TM) is a trademarked name? I am making sure the Ironman (TM) police don't come get me. Did I mention I was a lawyer in real life?). My spouse is the greatest at support. Not only does he put up with the constant hassle of sweaty clothes in the bathroom, a wife whose hair matches Don King's, and also one chronically late for dinner, he comes with me to the events and acts as my support team--when he is not competing, because he does the sprint tris with me. He spent a long day at my Oly tri lugging all my stuff, giving me encouragement, feeding me before and after, and sitting around for 4 hours while I came and went in blurs of sweaty transitions. You can't beat the feeling of your spouse at the finish line waving you on (and taking photos). Hopefully, you can recruit yours to participate with you, or at least come as support crew. Remember to thank them for their sacrifices, which are legion. They secretly think you are nuts but are proud of you for your accomplishments. Thanks, Jim. You are my inspiration.

Today I am going to swim. I think. I am taking the day off work to go to a commercial shoot with my dog, Hawkeye, who has a bit part in the commerical. I have no idea how he will do. He's done some still shoots but you just don't know! You see, I do have lots of other things in my life. Commercial shoots are a long day. If I can't make the swim tonight, I will have to swim early in the morning.

Happy training!