Feeling My Way to Wellness

We have working theories, we in the working-out world.  We come across a problem; we postulate its nature and purpose a solution.  Then we experiment and rate the findings.  In this we’re like scientists, only with sexy bodies and personable skills.  Well, this may be where we and I part company, but I hope I’m closing the deficit with my ongoing efforts.

Anyway, to meet the overarching challenge of completing the Loveland Half-Marathon and its 13.1 miles on October 19, Laurie and I have been training so that we (meaning mostly I) don’t end up broken on the side of the race course or hurt thereafter.  Deciding that my feet couldn’t take the stress of a 5K plus 10 miles, we resolved to walk the race.  The first challenge was working up to the great distance.  In succeeding weeks we did 4 miles, 6.5 miles. 8.5 miles and, while Laurie was participating in a triathlon, I did almost 13 miles Saturday.  Though only slightly, my body was generally sore after these walks, but it is a testament to Laurie’s work and expertise that the muscles of my body quickly regenerated and ramp up their ability to meet the escalating workloads.

That is what you might expect in a training regimen.   What I am working through are the problems that cause me to feel sore or low in following days, problems that could otherwise be avoided.  Two marked challenges presented themselves; the first I’ve seemed to have solved, the other is ongoing.

At 6.5 and 8.5 miles, I was moving all my weight around for hours at a time and using a lot of energy.  My activity watch estimated that I was burning more calories during a walk then I was consuming all day, and, predicatively, I felt rather nasty for days following.  Knowing everything I’m doing and listening to my symptoms, both Laurie and Mindy nailed what was at issue: I wasn’t eating enough, particularly while working out.  Laurie, the comparative waif that she is, only needs a few sports jelly beans—which she humorously counts out as if they were of the Jack’s magic bean variety—but I’m two to three times her size and need more.

On Saturday I walked to the grocery store and bought three protein bars which I ate throughout my walk.  It was a good thing I did, because though in total the protein bars had nearly 1,200 calories, I used an estimated 3,326 calories in my workout.  Not refueling during such vigorous exercising is not, I believe merely imprudent, but probably rather unhealthy.  The next day, my energy level remained intact, my spirits at having achieved that length and feeling great, were high.

My second problem is ongoing.  I have been getting blisters on my feet from walking; the same size blisters in the same spots.  I switched to a new pair of shoes, which helped a little.  I tried decreasing the interior area of the shoe by adding another insert on top on that of the shoemaker’s—no effect.  Switching to a mid-sock cut out blistering on my ankles.  Glide body lubricant promises to be the greatest ameliorant.  A little Glide helped a little; lathering it on helped a lot more.  I could feel the pads of my feet sliding in my shoe where they would have been rubbing and it worked for maybe half of Saturday’s walk before I, in hindsight, should have reapplied.

So I’m going to lather and then re-lather on the Glide and if that doesn’t fix it I ask Laurie if a mid-change of socks might help.  But rest assured, we’re going to keep training and keep tweaking until we are ready for the Eighteenth!

Working Through a Low Feeling

I am a recovering hypochondriac; I always think I’m sick.  When I was leading an extremely sedentary lifestyle and eating awfully, I seemed to succumb to every virus and bacterial bug that came my way.  I was constantly nauseated, eating myself sick as often as I could.  Dealing with an ever present malaise made me hypersensitive to how I felt, and I would suss out the very hint of an ailment that may or may not have been the onset of an illness.  And when it wasn’t, I’d pretend to be under the weather because declaring myself sick allowed me to comfortably withdraw from a world I feared.

But throughout this year I have gotten out of my home and into a routine that has served me well.  I have learned that you can feel quite a bit below perfect (whoever feels perfect?) and still make it through a day; that a lot of unnerving symptoms subside once I start my day working out at the Club.  And my resistance, like the muscles of my body, has gotten stronger.  I haven’t had to cancel on Laurie due to illness all year, and I hadn’t exercised feeling sick.  Not until Tuesday.

I went into Laurie’s evening class with a sinus headache through which caffeine couldn’t cut, a sour stomach that, like a volcano, threatening to spew, and blistered feet and tired legs from an 8.5 mile half- marathon training walk the previous afternoon.  With a new resolve—that if sickness hasn’t reduced my faculties, if I don’t need a clear path to the toilet for either imperative, if I’m not uncontrollably spreading contagion and can regularly sanitize my hands—I decided to give it all I had.  A reduced effort yields more than no effort, and working through adversity develops the quality of toughness. 

Tough is an apt word to describe my workout.  Every time I bore down to strained at a weight station, my sinuses would compete with my temples to see who could cause more discomfort.  When I rose to my feet, I would get lightheaded, my eyes saw a flash of bright light.  It was then, hobbling around on sore feet, I thought that I may have bitten off more than I could chew.  Finally I reached a roadblock: the first station that gave pain to my sore right knees—hip extensions on the TRX.

It was at this point that I remembered that this wasn’t a boot camp where you ring the bell when you need to quit; it wasn’t even a boot camp exercise program.  It was a training group that you participated to the furthest extent of your own ability.  I think I subconsciously do things with an eccentric flair in order to get attention.  But when I am feeling good and giving my best Charles Atlas impersonation nobody appreciates me and watches what I do (save a roving Laurie, who is used to me).  So when I am feeling low, it doesn’t matter I substitute in-place an exercise that I can do for one that hurts my knee.  Slowing the pace of my reps and focusing on deep, relaxed breathes helped ease my headache and, without a tortuous pain, I was able to get through the session.

A well-earned night’s rested fully restored me Wednesday morning, and set firm a new lesson to add to my tool bag: Whenever possible, a little effort is more furthering than no effort!

Laurie's Ab Alley, on the Path to Sixpackville

Shoes for Every Occasion; or, Shoe Murderer

I wish I knew of a good way to tell when my shoes are wearing out.  It was a week of my feet hurting after work outs, socks coming out of the shoes filthy, and blistering that didn’t abate before I came to terms with the fact that my Saucony’s were rotting on my feet.  It was time to put them to rest and head to Bob Roncker’s Running Spot.

 

Poor Saucony's, barely had the start of a life! (2014-2014)

Fitted into a pair of New Balance’s I love, I feel returned to form.  There’s nothing like a new pair of shoes—with their fresh smell, perfect cushioning, and grippy tread—and I relish the feeling while I can.  Because with my weight and the amount of exercising I’m doing, they take surprisingly little time to wear out.  I’ve already sent three pairs of running shoes to the trash heap! (Four, if you count the pair I started the year in.)

 

The dearly departed: HOKA BONDI 2 (2014-2014), Adidas Supernova Glide 5 (2014-2014)

In addition to my New Balance’s, which are my all-around shoe, I have a pair of Mizuno’s I alternate in.  I use a pair of exceptionally supportive Nike’s just for roadwork, walking and running.  After trying to play tennis in a pair of super-cushioned HOKA’s and miraculously failing to twist an ankle, Joseph took me down the road to the fantastic Midwest Sports outlet, where I got a proper pair of Adidas tennis shoes. 

The difference in using a shoe for its intended form is night and day and got me to wonder.  Why not a cross training shoe for group training, with its lateral movements for which a running shoe isn’t designed.  Maybe I could use my tennis shoes but, knowing my shoes aren’t going to last even close to forever, shouldn’t I save them for tennis?  And then what should I to wear for cycling when none of the above share the attributes of a biking shoe…

My shoe budget has replaced a substantial fast food budget and I’m infinitely healthier for it!

Ooh! New Shoes!!! (2014-???)  ???=2014

Tennis for One

I’m told that my tennis racquet does indeed have a sweet spot but, for all my staggering strokes taken against the technically sound Joseph, I had yet to develop my sweet swing.  What I required was a lot of no pressure practice, so during a lazy Friday lull I gathered my two tennis racquets and three tennis ball and took to the Five Seasons basketball court.

Hitting the balls against the wall was so much fun that I lost track of time.  Over the course of three hours, I swung and swung with the intention of going until I fatigued my arm.  At first the motion felt so unnatural that it started to hurt my wrist and sent the balls far up the wall, clanging off the windows thirty feet high.  Then, a little tired, I relaxed my wrist and eased the trajectory of my swing and the balls started coming off straighter, giving me much better control.  The more strokes I took the more the balls popped off the sweet spot and the longer my rallies got. 

Much more than on the hard court, the wood floor sapped most of the returning tennis ball’s bounce, so by the time it got back to me I had to really concentrate on putting a fast and full swing on the ball in order to put power into the shot.  When my legs got tired from running and shuffling, I went up to seven feet from the wall and practiced my net work.  Without letting the ball hit the ground, I kept the racquet light in my hand, tapping the ball against the wall. 

Repeating the long strokes and the short work quickly passed the time and I was amazed how well my body met this challenge in endurance.  The next day I wasn't sore in my legs, knee or ankles as I would have expected.  All the swinging from the core caused my abs to be tender Saturday morning, which—ultimately wanting a six pack—I love.  I bet a lot of tennis players have washboard abs and, if so, a tennis player I will become!  Oh, I really need to work on my serve…

In-Training for the Queen Bee Half Marathon

Laurie and I went a-walking yesterday in what Laurie calls our long walks, preparing for the inaugural Queen Bee Half Marathon on October 11.  Joseph, Laurie and I will start and then finish at the Horseshoe Casino after flying through a full 13.1 miles of Cincinnati’s many wonderful neighborhoods.  Well, we may not fly through a course of that length, but we will walk it and we will finish it! 

And so we’re not out there for four or more hours in this test of endurance, Laurie has us in-training for the half, and it’s a good thing we are!  Marching around the neighborhood opposite Five Seasons, we walked 6.5 miles in a little over 90 minutes, bumping up our distance of 5 miles last week.  I’m amazed how much more I am able to engage additional areas of my body—like my core—while walking and also how sore I feel today!  Instead of soreness in my hamstrings and quads as from running, I’m sore in my calfs, shins and gluts.  But the soreness is far less than last week and will hopefully be less and less going forward, until I start the Queen Bee in perfect half-marathon walking shape. 13.1 miles, wow!  Wish me luck!

Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 2014

The rising early morning sun removed the September chill from the air as we waited for the start of race.  While listening to the run’s instructions and rules, the participants formed a dense pink-cladded column behind the starting gate.  And then, the sudden BOOM! of the starter’s pistol officially opened the 2014 Komen Greater Cincinnati Race for the Cure.

 

Team Five Seasons: Joseph Pinnell, moi, Tom Porter, Amanda Mills

The course around Coney Island was wonderfully wide and totally flat—my favorite yet.  There was no bottlenecking at the starting stages today and I opened up into quick pace.  I jogged and jogged, mindfully focusing on my breathing without worrying about the time elapsed or distance covered.  Just as I was about to slow into my first walk of the day, Joseph told me that I broke ten minutes in my first mile —9:44!—my fastest mile time ever!  So surprised and elated, I forgot that I was tired and ran about half a mile before my wind, or lack-there-of, slowed me.

We passed the water station and I was huffing and puffing so much that I had a hard time downing the liquid reinvigoration.  Joseph helped me with a quick lesson of deep breathing and I was soon off jogging again.  Not nearly as long did I last, as the second start was the first done tired: back to walking.  Sorry, I said to Joseph.  Never apologize, there’s no need, he replied, and I could tell he said this because he could see that I was earnestly trying. 

After a few more starts and stops, I had a feeling that if this continued it’d be a long and ugly slog.  If I could just push myself to run a little longer, I reasoned, it’d go much faster.  I looked down the path and saw that the course rounded a corner about a tenth of mile downfield.  Don’t let me stop until we get to that bend! I told Joseph.  That was the toughest bit, stretching the jog to the corner, and I walked as soon as we reached it.  But I had earned the rest.  I repeated this tactic, increasing the intervals before walking as the finish line got closer and closer.

In the meantime, timekeeper Joseph called out more personal records that I didn't even contemplate attempting to beat:  2 miles in 22:15, surpassing my goal of 22:22; breaking 34 minutes for 3 miles.  I was especially proud that I was able to break the finish line in a run, something I hadn't the energy to do at May’s Flying Pig.  I broke the finish line in 36:23, beating my Pig time by nearly ten minutes!  As we celebrated afterwards, I was ecstatic with my personal records, gratified by the confirmation of my hard work.  And I’m glad it wasn’t perfect, that I walked and wheezed and nearly threw up.  It means there’s room for improvement and reason to redouble my efforts.  Tomorrow morning, it’s back to Five Seasons!

Shades of Week One

The nerves are all tingling in unison as I have prepared for Sunday’s Komen Race for the Cure 5K.  I’m an anxious, self-stressed, cortisol producing mess, and it feels like I’m starting the training journey all over again.  Like early on, my weight has been hovering around 297 pounds.  But unlike the beginning of the year I've been faithful to my diet, eating only my Mindy-approved plan.  I am consistently at or under my daily calorie goal, and have sweat soak my clothes every time I finish at the Club.

In Laurie’s group Wednesday night I started feeling the tell tale lack of energy that preceded the faintness I felt in my very first weeks of training.  It’d been so long since I felt that way that I stopped bringing the piece of fruit, which served as an emergency energy, months ago.  All culminated yesterday, when I was playing tennis with my friends, Joseph and the sweetly sprite-like Amanda Mills.  I am as nervous in learning tennis as I am in everything else, and they noticed that my footwork was little anxious steps, my swings over thought, halting motions.  The clarifying moment occurred as a ball was sent projecting behind me, near the baseline.  Caught off guard, my over-stimulated brain chose the rarely used tennis move consisting of a sideways, backwards jump, a feckless flailing at the ball, followed by a landing without the assistance of one’s feet.  It happened to fast and without thought; one moment upright, the next painfully hugging the court with my left shoulder and wrist.

When everyone is too polite to ridicule me, it is I who must say that this is ridiculous.  I’ve put forth the effort that has prepared me for Sunday—I am ready.  My goal is to beat my 5K personal record of 46:08 from May’s Flying Pig, and I know that I beat that time by about seven minutes at The Color Run.  As Mindy told me, I just need to just let life’s challenges come at me, rather than contorting my mind in attempts to anticipate every possibility.  If anxiety is a sort of electricity that flows freely within my body, I need to find a way to ground the livewire that so stresses my flesh and wits.  Mindy has recommended guided meditation and has led me to some great apps.  I think it’s starting to take the edge off, and know it’s healthier than Xanax or alcohol.  Tonight and tomorrow I rest my legs, my shoulder and wrist.  Sunday, we have a Race!