Hitting the Trail and Kicking Jean-Paul Sartre in the Teeth

Recently, I've felt like the spirit of Jean-Paul Sartre has jumped on my back and  insisted that I carry him on all my runs while he reads Being and Nothingness to me.  The busy season at work hit right as the busy season for baby planning got into full swing, and my life has gotten crazy.  Granted, I know that once the baby arrives it will be worse, but I just can't wait way.  I'm too excited for words.  Frightened out of my mind as well, but I am still excited.  Luckily, I have managed to keep up with running and working out over the summer, but it has started to wear on me.  I won't lie it has been difficult at times, but Running is important to me, so I've made sacrifices and been flexible. I've run in the evenings despite brutal heat, I've switched rest days, and I done cross training at lunch so I could sleep in and give my body rest following long nights of baby shower planning, Bradley classes, and moving.  I even switched gyms to the University gym where I work rather than the Y because it is more convenient (and cheaper).  However, running without a major race on the horizon has gotten increasingly difficult.  I've start to ask myself does it really matter if I skip a day or if I don't hit 20 miles for the week.  I feel like I'm being visit by the spirits of dead French existentialists, who want me to feel nothing and embrace pointlessness of my Sisyphean toil.

They know that I would love nothing more to run a Half Marathon this fall, but with the unknown arrival time of my son looming, it is just not a real option.  The spirits of these dead French intellectuals noticed recently that despite my desire to run and exercise being present, my spark was noticeably lacking.  I am just pushing rocks up a hill knowing that they're going to roll back down.  Damn You Camus!!!  I have gotten tired of running in the same places, covering the same ground, and efforts to change things up haven't seem to help.  Sartre just keeps jabbering away in my ear with each step I take!  I think he wants me to wear a beret. 

However, changing gyms seemed to really help reignite my workouts.  I enjoyed walking into the campus gym and thinking about all the different ways I could change my workouts or make my current workouts fit in this new place, and I found myself eagerly anticipating my next workout.  The French Philosophers didn't have membership cards so I was able to leave them at the door as they began to talk about Jacques Derrida behind his back.  The effect changing gyms had on me got me thinking about what I could to help my running.  I thought about doing track workouts, but the track is really where I go to alleviate boredom, plus I have been trying to incorporate sprints into my cross training, so the track didn't seem like the answer.  I thought about going to different parks and tried changing routes, but it just wasn't working.  I mixed up my music, tried running without music but that just invited Sartre to being talking to me about his life with Simone de Beauvoir, which just got weird!  My spark just wasn't there.  I blamed the heat.  I blame the heat for everything, but on days when it was cool, still no spark, no fire, no passion, I was running because that's what I do.  In my head I was screaming damn it . . . I am Sisyphus!

I was beginning to resign myself to my running life turning into a feeling-less Prozac-esque haze until, I could start training for my next big race, but luckily the answer hit me on my way to Umstead on Sunday . . .Trails!  I should run trails!  I love running trails.  Trails were where my passion for running was born and that is where I knew that I would find it again.  So, instead of heading to the airport entrance to Umstead, I pulled my car in the the main parking lot where several trail heads are located and hit the old Company Mill Trail.
Hello Spark!  I was in love again.  I could see vivid color and the Existential nihilism that was threatening to take over my running was gone!  I kicked Sartre in the teeth as I ran along side of a rain swollen stream, I chucked Camus into oblivion as I hurdled a fallen tree that blocked the path.  Halfway though my run I felt like scream that I wasn't going to wear their stinking beret because I got my spark back and the fire was burning bright!   Trails were my answer.  I hadn't been running trails because I was afraid of getting injured before a race.  But, with no major races upcoming, trails were once again an option.  I love the level of concentrations that running trails require.  I need to focus on the ground in front of me that it was easy to ignore the whispers, shouts, and cries of all the long dead French philosophers questioning my reason for running.  The trails were my salvation, and I just enjoyed my run with a peace that has been lacking for the last few months.

In the Radio Edit Words of Cee Lo Green

Forget You July! 

No, this is not a repeat of yesterdays' post.  Granted, I was so frickin happy that it was August that I nearly peed myself when the clock struck midnight, but that's beside the point. 

No the reason that I am quoting from Cee Lo's song book is that as of yesterday morning I was sitting on 90 miles for the month, with only a 4 miler on tap for the day.  After oversleeping in the morning, and missing my run, July began to taunt me with what had to be the mildest weather of the month.  And this I could not take.  July (ⁱ/dʒʊˈlaɪ/ juu-LY) is the seventh month of the year in the Julian and Gregorian Calendars, the month that marks both the birth of our nation and your's truely, had been mocking me for the better part of 31 days.  And, I was sick of it!

So with less than 6 hours to go, I decided to lace em up after work and sing July a lullaby from of my Green's that you may have heard a time or two.  The run was a struggle because, even though the temps were mild in comparison to what we have been experiencing. it was still pretty dang hot!  However, I was able to tough it out, get my 10 miles, cross the century mark for the second straight month and tell July to . . .

Forget You!


So hit it Mr. Green!

GOOD BYE JULY

When you don't have anything good to say about someone isn't best to say nothing at all?  Well, that is how I feel about July!  It's been miserably hot, and I've been busier than all get out.  (that's a little WV speak there for you).  

Hiroko and I moved to a larger place to accommodate my race medals and gear our son, who is doing his best to arrive in time for his first Halloween!  Painting and moving in NC during the month of July . . . not the best idea ever, but we did it.  And, now there is a nice blue room and a baby Jogger waiting for my boy!  

I still able to get in 90+ miles this month and several good workouts, but most of my runs were painful sweat and bonk fests that had screaming "Thundering Jehosophat, July you merciless Son Of A Beehive, go Shitake Mushroom yourself!"
 

or something like that.  Fatherhood is coming, and I need to start editing the language . . . a lot.  But, it looks like I may just have survived this month, so I am happy to say to July a very G rated . . . 

Rule 1 of Fitness Classes: Good Instructor = Good Class

Recently, I saw a someone on twitter, saying basically that a fitness instructor should look like they are in great shape, otherwise they can't inspire people to work hard.  The comment seemed silly to me more than anything, but it did make me think about what I valued most in an instructor, which motivated me to go to a class that I hadn't attended while Friday's were my rest day. However, I moved my rest day to Monday, so I have no excuse other than not wanting to take a 5:30am class.  The class is taught by the person I think of as the best instructor at my gym, so during today's class I really paid attention to the things that I thought made her the best.

Good Fitness Instructors = Good Class is pretty much a no-brainer, but considering how many classes I have taken with instructors that were just crap for various reason, it is always refreshing when you take a class with a good instructor.  This morning I took a butt-kicking circuit and spin combination class at my gym with Holly.  I have multiple reasons why I think she is a good instructor:

• Her classes are fun and her attitude is engaging (even at 5:30am).
• She provides detailed instructions about the exercises, breaking it down and not only explaining how things will feel if were are doing something right or wrong, but also explaining how the exercise works if done correctly and what happens if done incorrectly.
• She'll exercise along with us, but also stop to make sure we are doing things properly and give people individual instruction when needed.  She is almost always scanning the class making sure that people are doing things correctly.
• Most importantly -- she is able to make you want to push yourself without pressuring you or make you feel intimidated.  This is a tightrope that most instructors struggle to deal with because either they come off overly perky and cracked-out or overbearing like the DI from Full Metal Jacket.  Holly seems to realize that the most powerful form of motivation is internal and not external.  It is hard to describe, but instead of just telling the class to push harder, she'll motivate you to chose to push harder, which to me, seems like a much more skilled approach.  And, is much more effective because I won't have her running beside me during long run telling me to keep going.

Over time, I have come to understand what I am looking for in an instructor and have gotten picky about which classes I take.  I used to take classes based upon the type of activity, but I am now much more likely to take a class based upon the instructor rather than the activity.  Here are some examples of what I think makes a bad instructor and the type of things that I want to avoid:

1. Paying no attention to form -- Sadly, over 90% of the fitness classes I have taken have been with instructors that do not demonstrate or explain proper form to the class, nor do they correct the form of the participants. 
2. Treating the class as your own personal workout -- Can't tell you how often I been in classes where the instructor pays no attention to the class, the level of the students, but instead is just trying to get in a "paid" workout. 
3. Never changing up the class:  Boring.  There is one class at my gym that I have not taken in a year, but I could tell you the whole routine right now.  It NEVER changes.  Ever!
4. Inappropriate exercises for the level of the class:  Just because your personal trainer taught you a killer exercise, doesn't mean that you should incorporated it in to the classes you teach.  I took a class with an instructor that did this and hurt people.  Her trainer was paid to evaluate her level of fitness and gave her exercises that were appropriate for her, but she mistakenly tried to do the same exercise in a group fitness class and routinely caused injuries to her students.  It is also possible to have and instructor who doesn't challenge a class as well, but that is usually a much less serious problem. 
5.   Getting too chummy or cliquish with students: We all want to build a good feeling of community in these classes, or we would be working out on our own or with trainers.  But sometimes, a good community can become insular and begin to make people feel excluded.  Early morning workout classes and spin seem to spawn this type of thing,  Spin because of territorialism and early classes because it is usually the same small group of people, who attend consistently.   

What do you think makes a good instructor or a bad one?  I would love to hear what other people think!

Standing Desk -- Building the Active(Standing) Runner Dad

Yes.  I am one of those guys.  I've jumped on to one of the huge tends of 2012, the return of the standing desk.  As trends go, it could have been worse, I am not sporting  Bieber haircut, wearing skinny jeans, or having "cute" Zooey Deschanel chats with Siri.  Meh.

But, regarding the standing desk, I have pretty much bone all in.  I didn't jump on the Standing Desk Band Wagon on a whim either.  I put a lot of thought into it before I made the switch.  While I was teaching in Japan I spent most of my day standing.  I estimate that I spent over half of my work day standing for three years, and I enjoyed it for the most part.  I really only sat when I did private lessons and even then we would still get up when practicing conversations.  In fact, one of my most difficult class was a private lesson right after lunch that I struggled to get through because of drowsiness. 

Once, I returned to America my days of desk toil and drudgery began.  My legs started to have all kind of stiffness, my back was sore all the time, and occasionally my sciatic nerve would fire off send white hot electrical pain shooting down my leg.  At first I began to wonder if my old dog was up in dog heaven with a voodoo doll getting revenge on me for all the times he got drilled by the invisible fence.  By that time, I had already began exercising, running, and reading tons of material on healthy living.  At some point, I began to come across articles about how harmful it was to sit for hours on end, which really resonated with me.  However, making a switch to a standing desk in my old office was impractical to say the least.  But rather than ignore the issues I was having, I began to stretch, use the foam roller, and experiment with different chairs and sitting positions. 

Fortunately, I changed offices several months ago, so when I again found articles about how bad sitting was on the body.  I really started to give the standing desk some serious consideration.  I came across several articles like this one from The Art of Manliness, which made me take direct action.  On June 15th I created my own standing desk out of a small filing cabinet and my old desk.  The change to the standing desk was a big topic of conversation around my office for a few days, and it has taken me some time to work things out logistically (like finding room to sit and eat lunch), but with exception of a few days following long runs, I have had few regrets out switching to the the standing desk.  But, the changes have been pretty dramatic.  In less than a month, my back and legs have begun to feel much stronger, the pain in both have subsided dramatically, the nerve in my leg no longer fires off randomly, and I feel much more energetic.   I don't stand the entire day.  I'll sit when I while I am on the phone or when someone come in for a long conversation, and I of course I sit at lunch.  So far the only real issues have come up following some long runs when my feet felt swollen even before going to work, but overall, I think that the standing desk was a great choice for my long term health.

Ignoring the Good Advice of Marsellus Wallace

With and nationwide hate wave raging across the country and high's of 105 in Raleigh, I wisely decided to stick with my running schedule.  Saturday's 5 miler in Umstead was not the most pleasant run I have ever, but it was world's better than the Epic Ass-Kicking of Sunday's 10 miler (**my use of "Epic" is Homeric rather than hipster).   By the 4 mile mark of my run, I was crushed and knew that I should have thrown in the towel and turned back.  However, I felt the sting of pride and pressed on.  Perhaps, I should have listened to wisdom of Marsellus Wallace: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.  

  I am not one of those people that pours water on themselves, so that's all sweat.

Unfortunately, I didn't listen to my Uncle Marsellus and pressed on.  By my turnaround at the 5 mile mark, I knew that Umstead was about to get medieval on my ass.  By mile six I heard a runner running so close behind me that I though that they might bump into me so I turned to see if I need to move, but there was nobody around.  It took my a second but I realized that the sound I heard wasn't another runner, but the sloshing of my shoes which had filled with sweat.  By mile seven, my hand held water bottle  was empty and I was being mobbed by horseflies.  By the eight mile mark, I was walking more than I was running.  And just to add insult, the water stop in the park at the eight and a half mile mark of my run was shut down because it had be taken over by yellow jackets.  In addition, I was eating tons of dust that was being kicked up by all the Mountain bikers due to lack of rain. Once I finished my run I was able to ring out the sweat from my clothes, which you can see in the pictures.  Also, the sweat and dust had coated both my shoes and legs in a thick paste that was just nasty.  Next week, I plan to show just a bit more wisdom and a lot less pride when it comes to dealing with running in the heat. 

Hitting the Benjamin Mark

Yesterday's six miler saw me achieve a major goal of mine. I crossed the century mark, 100 miles, for the first time in a single month. Somehow the idea of laying down 100 miles in a month really inspired me. My guess is that I knew it would require me to run when I was tired and to commit to my running schedule in a way that I hadn't in the past.  And, it would require me to turn off all the How I Met You Mother repeats, which I need to do because Ted's been dragging this crap on for way too long!  Anyway, over the last three weeks I watched only 3 hours of TV and half of that was Enter The Dragon on Netflix, which shouldn't count because Bruce Lee films are High Art, and I'll brake out all my mad Nunchuck skillz from 1986 on anyone, who dares argue otherwise! 

But I digress, hitting the century mark was a big deal for me because I knew it would force me to run when I was tired, sore, sleppy, and wanted to do nothing more than roll around on the floor a bitch about how I was FAB (Fu@ked at Birth). Over the last month, I've stayed on course and as the days progressed I got more and more use to the routine. I realized that I have need to push myself more for a long time now and that after laying down these 100 miles, neither of my legs is going to fall off. So, next month looks like it might just be a 120+ month, if I don't melt from all of this 100 degree heat!

Two Day, Fifteen Mile, Festival of Sweat and Pain

Summer has hit here in NC.  We have had a few previews during the spring but avoided any sustained heat through most of June.  But, our luck seems to have run out and now everyone is going to suffer and sweat.  I am in the process of going for my first 100 mile month and have benefited a lot from the mild weather.  Thursday mornings sweat-fest provided me with all the warning that I needed to know that Saturday and Sunday's runs would be brutal.

Hiroko decided to join me at Umstead on Saturday morning.  She did a 3 mile power walk while I ran a 5 miler. My legs were unusually stiff when I started my run.  It was an odd sort of stiffness in my lower legs, which I attribute to switching to a standing desk at work (No, I don't own a Mac, a Prius, or run in Vibrams,  but the standing desk trend is something that makes a lot of sense to me).  The pictures below are all from Saturday's 5 miler and give an idea of heat and mugginess of the morning.  The are no pictures of Sunday's 10 miler and trust me, you wouldn't want to see them if there were!  On Saturday, the stiffness abated right around the 3.5 mile mark, but before that I wore a freakish scowl of pain for most of the run that just added the pièce de résistance to my appearances.  


I made sure to get up early for Sunday's 10 miler, and I started nearly an hour earlier than I have over the last few weeks in a vain attempt to avoid the heat.  My legs were sore, but I thought that the would be worse because I had spent 4 fours driving Saturday to meet some family members, who were traveling thru NC on their way back to WV.  But, my legs weren't as bad off as I feared at the start of my run.  By three miles I had turned into a sweaty mess and the run was beginning to turn painful.  I was glad to reach the midway point because it meant I was committed to 10 miles, but it also meant that the worst of the hills were rapidly approaching.  The hills of Umstead Park suck under normal conditions, but they are even worse when your shoes are filled with sweat and you're being chased but three horse files.


Luckily, shortly after I climbed the worst part of the hills I was able to pass of my horse files to a couple of interval runners.  I felt a little bad about it, but since there were two of them, they stood a better chance than I did.  The last 2.5 miles hurt and left my legs screaming, but I did them and completed my run, which gave me 26 miles for the week and 106 miles over the last 30 days.  At the end I could ring out my shirt and most have lost a good two or three pounds during the run if not more.  I spent the rest of Sunday attempting to re-hydrate and rest my legs. 

post 5 miler

Soaked in Sweat

Yep, ringing out the sweat.

After meeting up with Hiroko

 

BTW: we're having a boy! 

Visual Representation of Today's Run

You'll Never Know Until You Open the Door or Building the Active Runner Dad -- Greg.1 part IV

I thought  that my morning run was going to be a disaster.  All the signs were pointing a real slug-fest.  I had slept hard and didn't even hear my alarm going off at 4:30 until my wife woke me.  I stumbled and teetered around for several minutes before I could figure out what planet I was on.  After I realized that I was still on Earth, the reset of my reality seemed to fall into place, and I knew that it needed to get ready for my run.  I wanted to go back to sleep, but the idea of an afternoon run in mid-June was all the motivation that I needed, so I stumbled to the shower. 

I didn't open my front door until 5:45am.  What did I do in that hour and fifteen minutes, you ask?  DREAD MY RUN.  My legs were heavy, mouth was dry, nose was runny, and I was just all out of sorts.  I kept thinking of my five mile course and no part of it looked good.  In my mind, The hills looked bigger and each intersection more busy than the last.  The closer that I got to getting ready the worse I felt.  I got my body glide and deodorant confused, my cats was wanting to play, and my socks were AWOL.  Still, I knew that I need to do this run.  The dread would only compound if I went back to bed and tried for an evening run.  I couldn't decide if I wanted to take my water bottle and debated with myself for a good seven minutes, then filled it up with ice and water, only to change my mind and leave it.  I felt like an ass . . . an ass with shoes that weren't broken in enough.  It's bad enough to feel like an ass, but to feel like an ass with shoes that are guaranteed to cause blisters is the worst.

Putting on my blister makers, I knew that I was making a mistake.  I had to use the restroom, so I took off my unbroken shoes and went to the restroom for the third time.  Afterward, I put on my sole busters, pick up my Old Bob, who already had signal (thank you skylight), turned on my I-pod: Broken Bells -- I planned on listening to the whole CD.  Then, I opened the door and instantly everything went from wrong to right.  The air was cool, the streets were quiet, and my legs felt good.  When I began running, I felt like I was running upright and solid.  My shoes still weren't broken in and I knew that at least one blister was unavoidable, but everything else was fine.  In fact, it was more than fine.  It was going to be a good day dammit! 

Lesson for The Active Runner Dad is that worrying about is often much worse than doing it.  You have to be willing to go outside and face whatever the day has in store for you or your doomed to a lifetime of failure and frustrations.  I know that the isn't rocket science and that man other folks already understand these things, but unfortunately, I have not been one of these people in the past.  Far too often excuses have won out and I have gone back to bed rather than opening up the door to face the day.