I am a...ballerina?

Got ice on the ankles right now, so I'll get this post done. Just got back from a relatively quick 5K run, just up to the park and back. My whole goal today was just to get out there and not abort the run. Now that knees are off the radar (for now), it seems like it's time for the ankles and shins to give me trouble. I DID go to the doc yesterday, where the doc who built my orthotics took a look at things. I pointed out that the only consistent pain - and the only pain that is of worrying intensity - is deep inside my left ankle. He quickly found the problem - a form of shin splints that has to do with the tendon that wraps around the end of the femur down in the ankle. He said it's most often seen in ballerinas. greeeeaaaat. Um, yeah...I'm gonna have to ask you not to spread that around the office. People will get the wrong idea, ya know.

He did modify the orthotics a touch and prescribed a lot more stretching of the calves. That was the fix last time I had shin splints consistently, after all, so it should work again. In addition, I'm going back to using the theraband to strengthen these ankle muscles, though the doc said that'll take months.

Anyway...the run today. Took a couple of ibuprofen, slipped into my shoes, and got out the door. I started off with a slow jog, but soon upped the pace as much as my painful shins and ankles were letting me, because today was not about having to save energy. Today was about getting some elevation in and just getting the joints and blood moving.



The splits are mildly deceiving, in that I paused the workout twice to stop and stretch a great deal. So the splits don't show actual overall time, but only "moving" time. That said, this was a good run despite the pain. I got the pain to mostly abate in the last mile and was able to pick up the pace at points throughout the run to a sub-10. On one flat section coming back, I noted I was kicking a 9:10 pace at that moment and...wait for it.... I actually felt GOOD. Heart, lungs, legs, even ankles at that moment, all working together... YES! I just need more of that. Lot's more of that.

The downhills I took gingerly, as the pounding to the ankles intensifies. But on the other hand, I lengthened my stride, which allowed a better ankle-to-toe roll, rather than coming down flat with my feet.

In other news, I couldn't wait 'til this weekend's long run and went ahead and listened to the most recent Pheddip, ep 73, an argument against the Slate article by Gabriel Sherman. I was looking forward to Steve giving it to Gabriel with both barrels, but Steve's rebuttal doesn't come to the table with enough of its own research (Steve relies on classic debate tactics and logic arguments, rather than bringing in new information) so the whole thing feels like he was holding back; he merely winged Gabriel. I'd really like Steve to let go and have more bleeped out words and really take us on an emotional rollercoaster. But Steve is just TOO NICE! Or too responsible, I guess. But Steve did a great job of picking Gabriel's argument apart - which I'm sure Gabriel counts on, as his whole point is to draw traffic to the article. (And though Gabriel is not the first or last to hold his position, he uses fantastically bad arguments to support it.)

I also had the opportunity to listen to an episode that didn't download correctly the first time, so I was playing catchup. Imagine my surprise to find my own blog featured as Steve's blog-o-the-week in episode 71, the Cost of Running. It was a nice surprise.

I want to be an H.A.M.

No, not a ham, a H.A.M. - High-Activity Mouse.

Couple days ago, I went out for 16 miles. Things were bad right off the bat and got worse as I went, so I cut things short at 3 miles and walked home. I wasn't too worried about this, since even Ironman and ultrarunner Beast sometimes cuts his runs short when things aren't going right. But as I did that short run, I listened to Pheddipidations again. Steve Runner was talking about exercise addiction, of which I can safely say I am not personally under the whip. He cited a study done using regular mice and mice that had noticeably higher activity levels when allowed free access to their wheels. The study attempted to ascertain the physical and mental differences between the mice, as well as what happens when the mice are restrained from getting their excercise in. The scientists noted distinct brain activity changes during the time of day the mice would otherwise have hopped on the exercise wheel.

All I could think was how much I wanted to be a High-Activity Mouse; how getting out there must be so easy when one is driven to it by the same mechanisms that addict us to chocolate, morphine, alcohhol, and crack. *sigh*

This week's Pheddip. talked about running legend Jim Fixx. Not one of Steve's better "running legends" episodes, mostly because there isn't much to say about ol' Jim. He got fat, his dad died of a heart attack, Jim starts running to prevent the same thing, and - guess what? - died of a heart attack or stroke while on a run. Surely he was not the first, and definitely not the last (or most recent), but still. The point is: runners, go get your cholesterol levels checked, because they can still be way too high. (and there's this article from 2002, in which my own sports doc quotes marathon death rates as being 1 in 50,000 to 100,000. I hope that number has gone down since then.)

I made up the 16 today. My splits are a little off because my watch measured the run about .3 miles short - no big deal as I haven't calibrated the footpod yet and I know the miles are being measured a touch long anyway. I put in over three hours of excercise and feel that'll have to do.

This was not a good run. As the table shows, I actually managed to achieve one of my goals for most of the run: more consistent splits. This is especially surprising considering my run was peppered with segments of coughing/walking, though even those came at regular intervals. Also, miles 4 through 8 were a real bitch - right into a stiff headwind and the sun disappearing behind a blanket of clouds. I AM solar-powered, after all, and the sun skedaddling didn't help. I am pleased to note that my pace was, on average, just a touch faster than last week's 13-miler, up until the last three miles, at which point, the entire run went right to hell.



It's to be expected, I guess. First 16-miler since the hard 18-miler a couple months ago. And THIS run was far more consistently done. However, the last five miles had me in considerable pain as my muscles started getting really tight. In the last three, I had to walk a block for every five I ran and I had to stop and stretch twice. I had left ankle pain the entire run and wished I'd brought some Excedrin along to help dull it, even though I already had Tylenol in my system. I'll address this with the doc tomorrow.

Okay, 16 down, a hundred to go. New shoes are breaking in nicely; very happy with them. Like the Polar heartrate monitor system a lot. May have to break out the running pants for next week's run - part of the problem today was staying warm enough in the wind. Next week is supposed to be 21, but I may do a cut-down and do 11 instead, following up the week after with 21. We'll see how I feel towards the end of this week.

Oh, and I'm getting the cold-water bath thing down, but as far as adding ice, I'm not up to that yet. And boy did the warm shower after feel good!

Toronto Thursday

Dateline: Far Coast, Toronto

I investigate a coffee shop.

I'm sitting in the Far Coast coffee shop in downtown Toronto, enjoying an OK cup of morning java and a damn good ginger loaf. In case you hadn't heard, Far Coast is the stealth flagship brewed-beverage store of Coca-Cola. The local liberal free rag (NOW) opines that Teh Evul Coke Overlorrds Are Poysining Us With Coffee-lies and Confekshunery-dreams. OH NOES!



It's not at all the sinister corporate front it's made out to be. True, their mission of eco-friendly coffiteering is half-realized at best. They did use a lot of reclaimed wood in the interior design and made an effort with cups and stirs to be green, but a coffee shop is a coffee shop and that can only go so far. Coke, the parent company, is under a lot of criticism for its practices in other countries and has intentionally created this store to be as distant from their softdrink image as possible. Their money, though, is evident. This is the first three-story coffeeshop I've ever been in and the orange, teal, cream, and brown color scheme smacks of expensive design teams. This is the first time I've seen such a brightly-colored sip lid and it hurts my eyes. However, I like their bamboo stirs, which make wonderful five-stick wooden throwing stars. (Remember those?) The picture shows their sugar/cream station, which is a weak point in their design. It's too neat and contained to allow for adequate flow-thru of customers. Because we all know that the only good coffee is coffee REGULAR, you hear me you black-coffee-drinking sonsabitches?? I predict they'll change these stations out for more open counters in six months or so.



Well, it's been an interesting short week here in Toronto. During my three days of teaching, I didn't get a single run in. At nights I was reviewing the next day's material and I really needed to get eight or nine hours of sleep before I teach - it's the only way to stay focused. Because if I don't stay focused, I start making bad puns and inappropriate references to Office Space and that's just not professional. So it was with a great feeling of freedom that I was able to enjoy myself last night. I was a good boy and did not patronize the strip club across from the hotel. Instead, I caught the latest Bond flick and then went out with a complete stranger for some drinks.

I take in a movie.

It can only bode well when an action movie's star has two first names. As if to prove it, Casino Royale is supremely well-done. Daniel Craig's Bond is, as some reviewers have said, "not your daddy's James Bond." He's meaner in all ways, tougher in most ways, and downright sick in the head at many moments. He is a hired killer and spy for MI-6, period. That is the core of the new Bond character and there ain't much veneer around it. This new Bond is in many ways far more thrilling and captivating than even Sean Connery's. (Don't get me wrong: Connery was a complete Bond, the embodiment of Bond and had there never been another, I would be happy; I still hold his characterization in high regard.) Daniel Craig's Bond, however, is written far closer to the books' Bond than his movie predecessors and, indeed, it is an appropriate choice, as Casino Royale happens at the beginning of Bond's career. As such, it is a story based more in intrigue and cat-and-mouse games than it is in gadgets, charm, or easy one-liners. (In fact, the highest technology we see in this movie are cellphones and a defriballator only slightly smaller than the ones now adoring airport walls these days. There IS a brief moment of tracking chip technology - essentially a human Low-Jack - but this technology never even comes into play. As for one-liners, there are quite a few, but none have the cheese factor we've come to expect - they're intelligent and witty!)

This is a spy novelist's movie. You don't have to have seen a Bond movie before or even read one of the books to instantly be drawn into Casino Royale and enjoy every minute. It is also a movie that chicks will enjoy almost until the end. This Bond is not a silver-tongued devil, though he does get his fair share of women. He admits easily that his job comes first and that he's not particularly connected to the fairer sex except physically. One whip-sharp exchange goes:

Bond: Don't worry, you're not my type.
Vesper: Smart?
Bond: Single.

Daniel Craig also is the first Bond to go full monty, IIRC. The way Craig is built, ladies and gay men everywhere will pass right the fuck out.



The film has plenty of action sequences that will get the blood going, of course, but like Bond's character, the action relies more on brute force than technology, the camera work taking you in close and fast in a way that touches your gut. (In a way, it's like comparing all the old footage of helicopter shots of marathons to the close-up blood-sweat-and-tears shots of the front runners.) This Bond chases people on foot. A lot. He also kills people. A lot. He gets roughed up in the process, too, ending up in the hospital at least twice and temporarily dead at least once. The ending may shock you. It does NOT end like every other Bond film and this particular Bond's character is thrown into sharp relief against the light of reality. And it isn't until the very last line of the movie that we get to hear the signature "My name is Bond. James Bond." Bond fans everywhere: prepare to reboot.

I go out.

After the movie, I had a message from an internet acquaintance I've never met before, Andre, and we decided to go get a drink together. We ended up in a small, fairly deserted tappas bar that I'm sure is packed Friday and Saturday nights. The music was excellent; the Italian hottie manning the bar was courteous, charming, and quick with the liquor; and the atmosphere relaxing. Their martinis were large and I was pleased to find out they were half-price on Wednesdays. Ladies, it only took two of these to have me three-quarters drunk. $8 Canadian. I'm such a cheap date.

Andre turned out to be a sharp guy. A few years ago, he started working out and now sports a fitness-mag physique. Just been working up to it, he says, slow and steady. We compared notes a bit on the differences between his training and mine and he gave me some pointers on starting a core-excercises program. He thinks my idea of getting a climber's fingerboard for my wall at home is a good one. Andre is well aware of American politics, too, having lived in Florida during Dubbya's first election, and as dangerous a topic as politics is, we had some good conversation.

I run.

Getting up this morning was harder than hell. But I wanted to get a run in before I had to pack up and get out of the room, so I was out of bed by 10. Unfortunately, another goddamn bloody nose ambushed me and I lost 30 minutes to getting it stopped. The dry air here, combined with the dry heat in the room and my propensity to leak blood from my beak, is the culprit. I'm surprised it hasn't been a problem over the last four days. Still, I strapped on the watch, the shoepod, the heartrate monitor, skinnied into my running shorts and a long-sleeve tech T and headed out.

I've been wearing my new pair of Adrenaline 6's since Sunday, except during teaching, when I had dress shoes on. Today was the first run with them. The shoes felt really REALLY good on my feet and it highlighted for me just how quickly running shoes wear out. My old ones have definitely lost something that these shoes still have.

It was cold out - I could see my breath - but not cold enough to opt for pants. I didn't jackrabbit the start, just took my time and started jogging up Yonge street. I only had time for about three miles, reckoning on an overall 12-minute pace due to coughing fits, crowded sidewalks, and waiting for lights. While moving, my running pace was a steady 10:15 mile, though. It felt good. My legs have recovered from last Saturday's long run and carried me well today. I needed this run as I'd been feeling stiff from being on my feet for three days and my legs feel better right now than they have in a week.

I mapped out my route before hand, noting that a building I'd done some 3D modeling for while it was in the construction stages was nearby. Google maps said a round-trip would be just over three miles, but it turned out to be 2.64. Oh, well. The building itself (1 King West) looked exactly like the promotional pre-visualization renderings had pictured it. I did the modeling for much of the lobby and I couldn't believe how close our furnishing layouts had been followed. It was really something to see the product of my work - to whatever extent I had contributed. The tower above the old converted bank building is a modern glass tower in an elliptical shape - every bit as imposing in real life as in the renderings three years ago. Finished my run in 32:44, about a 12:25 mile pace. I got to see some of Toronto and have fun doing it and managed to get back, shower, and check out of my hotel room with five minutes to spare.

By the way, I'd like to remark on how clean Yorktown (downtown Toronto) is. Smokers are few and discarded butts are almost nonexistent. The streets and sidewalks are very clean and remarkably gum-spot free. This area is very mixed-use, too. Condo towers reside next to office towers and the lower floors are almost all shopping and restaurants. It's a business district that has a night-life and a weekend-life. Nice to see. And in general, it's a very nice, calm, peaceful town. Even their manhole covers look like peace symbols.

Landed in Toronto

Well, I've been in Toronto for two hours, now, 90 minutes of which was spent getting to my hotel. Apparently, Torontoans are even more holiday-obsessed than Americans and roll out Santa Clause, trees, and trimmings earlier than we do. Several of their main drags in downtown area were closed off for their Santa parade and the resultant traffic jam, as well as the deeply urban mixed-use type of scenery, really reminded me of Elizabeth, NJ.

My legs...well, geez, what was I expecting? I knew after ten miles yesterday that I'd pay for the additional three today, and I am. Not so much pain that I was willing to pay airport prices for painkillers, though. but since I did leave my magic bottle of painkillers at home (mixed ibuprofen, Tylenol, Excedrin, and Alleve), I'll have to track down a CVS or something here.

But first there are other things to find, such as the venue where I'm teaching tomorrow. And I need to check out the sushi/teppanyaki joint next door. And I'm mildly amused that from my room, I have a great view of a bustling downtown metropolis...with a stripjoint front and center, across the street. Brass Rail: "totally nude female interactive dancing" the sign says. Having not seen a nude female in some time, I am powerfully tempted....

but hey, this is a family friendly running blog, so no more on that!

If anybody's in Toronto and wants to get together, I have all of Thursday free; my flight doesn't leave 'til 6:15. I want to run the lakeshore or something or maybe just see some sights.

Decent long run

I haven't put in any entries this week because I didn't want to sound like I was whining. I got two runs in, both aborted due to pain. They SUCKED. My disappointment and self-doubts grew daily. If I can't run three miles, what makes me think I can run 26.2??

Well, we've been here before, haven't we? Oh, yes, we have. In fact, for pretty much most of the summer. Knowing this was a light of hope in this dark week because I had faith that my body would somehow dig deep and be able to do today's long run.

(Frankly, I think the physical therapy may have gone overboard, since I alwasy hurt after PT. That has now been discontinued, on doc's orders, until my next injury, I'm sure.)

And so it happened. What a glorious, beautiful day to run. It had turned cloudy and windy by the time I actually got out at about 2. 13 miles on the books for today. Could I do it? That's significantly more than the 9.4 I wound up running last week. But I preppred well, including good hydration Friday, two Excedrin about noon, and brought my gel and HEED. (Forgot to bring Endurolytes; turned out to be a non-issue.)

Making an exception to my rule about no music during long runs, I listened to Phedippidations episodes to get caught up. The first one, about the bravery and courage of long-distance runners, was good company on the outbound leg of my run. Though I don't quite buy Steve's conclusions in this episode, it was good food for thought. Besides, it certainly felt brave to intentionally go out for 6.5 miles before turning around. What if I couldn't get back?

The turnaround point was approximately two miles beyond the Verazzano, just a couple hundred yards shy of the Toys R Us at Gravesend Bay. Coming back, I listened to the podcast in which Steve runs the 31st Marine Corps Marathon. He had a hard time with congestion and also commented on the stiff wind they ran into for half the race - something I could immediately sympathize with as I was now running into a stifff wind myself. It was hard to keep warm and I was working harder to keep going. My lungs also chose this time to start a mild asthma attack, though nothing I couldn't handle.

Now, at the beginning of this week, I finally purchased a fancy-schmancy running watch complete with heartrate monitor and shoepod for rate and distance. Though I haven't calibrated the distance yet, I decided to trust the watch when the autolap beeps seemed to correspond with the mile markers I remember from running with the calibrated Nike+ nano. Okay. According to gmaps, I may have gone a little longer than the watch says; but as the last 5K was a mile struggle, I don't think a half mile more or less really much matters.



It was interesting keeping an eye on my heartrate. In general, I stayed right in the training zone. But my hunch about what happens when I have coughing fits and why I have to walk is right on. For the first time, I have empirical evidence that my heart rate jumps up quite a bit - The upper limit indicator would flash angrily. No wonder I end up walking while I cough. Average heart rate was 144, max heart rate 158. According to the watch, I spent a good 40 minutes of time above 80% max HR and my average is at 78% MHR.

And now I can look at splits, too!



I can really see where I finally got warmed up, where the wind started affecting me, and where I started to run out of steam. Neat. I look foward to trying to make my runs more evenly paced.

My lungs felt pretty good most of the time, aside from the mild asthma, and that helped. I was bringing up a lot off gunk, but I've been doing that all week. Probably due to so much time spent in the theatre this week.

Final note: I wore my Team Boomer jersey for the first time today. And got noticed! Apparently Jerry Cahill was out jogging, too and saw me; he emailed me later. I discovered that blue and white aren't a great color combo for CF runners - I need a color that will, uh, hide my effluvia. I did manage to slime myself once and that shows up pretty well on white. So I have an idea: camo-style fabrics in sputum-colored palettes.

Behold - the premiere of my new textile line: Phlegm-o-flauge!