Thursday, March 27, 2014

No Pain, No Gain...

When I was in high school, I had a friend who began to take Muay Thai. He enjoyed the martial arts classes considerably, though I don't know how long he continued to practice. I do remember that he told me once that hard-core Muay Thai practitioners would kick so that their shins would hit posts in order to break the shin bone minutely so that it might knit together stronger than before.

I thought that this was absolutely crazy.

I still think it's going too far.

But my practice of box jumping has given me a new perspective on the concept of, "no pain, no gain."

It's funny that even though I was nervous the first time I did box jumps at CrossFit, I was able to do it. I did it, and I gained confidence right up to the point where I fell and scraped a layer of skin off my right shin. The bruise was a doozy, and I can actually still see the mark it left on my skin back in January.

Since the rec center installed platforms that I could use to practice, I've acquired three more bruises from missed jumps. They all hurt a lot at the time, and weren't that big of a deal a couple hours later. Every time I missed a jump, I made sure to do another one right after, so I couldn't make it a big deal in my mind again.

Still, I find myself starting to hyperventilate during the jumps, because I don't like getting bruised, even if it is on my shin, and doesn't interfere with functional movement much.

This morning, I asked one of the CrossFit trainers for advice about box jumping higher. She told me that it was mainly a mental thing, and showed me how her legs were marked up from missed attempts that had broken her skin down to the bone. Shin pads might help, but it was more about what I thought than a specific power movement or technique.

I'm not sure I agree. I feel like there has to be some component of fitness to it that influences the maximum height someone can jump, not to mention factors of weight and height. I'll just have to accept that at my height and weight and muscle composition, I can't jump higher than I'm already jumping.

If such things were ranked, then my mind would have a black belt in coming up with excuses for not doing things that scare me.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

5K - Vegas Style

Okay, first of all, I definitely don't want to equate all races in Las Vegas to the 5K I participated in. There were, shall we say, logistical issues, and the manner in which they were solved, while safe, were not the most aesthetically pleasing.

I mean, not all races are going to be 7 laps around an abandoned adventure park, right? There can't be that many of those in Las Vegas, can there?

So, after staying up after midnight to see the Penn & Teller show, and losing an hour from Daylight Saving Time, I woke up at 6:30am, which felt like almost no sleep at all. I ate half a protein bar to sustain myself and got dressed in my running clothes: FiveFingers shoes, no socks, my favoite shorts, underwear, sports bra, the t-shirt I use for hiking and a headband. I drank some water from the tap in the hotel bathroom and then I headed off for my “warm up” by which I mean the walk down to the start of the race.

It was at least half a mile from my hotel room to the start of the race at the other end of the conference center at the MGM Grand. Although, at that early hour of the morning, the place was almost deserted and a little eerie. The halls that had been swimming with people the day before were now just mine, except for the line of people at one of the Starbucks (I think there’s like four of them in every casino).

And my heels were letting me know that traipsing around Las Vegas the day before in boots that had somehow gotten un-broken-in had consequences. With every step, the blister on my left heel let me know that I would not be running today if I couldn’t get it a cushion - or at least, I wouldn’t be running happy.

When I got to the registration desk, I had a moment of panic thinking that I wouldn't be running at all. Somehow, I had managed to sign up for the walk instead of the run (or they had a computer glitch, that's possible, right?). So I explained that I wanted to run and a nice man dressed up like Elvis (with an askew wig) helped me out and got me a timing band. Then, for the real challenge, I asked him if he could get me a bandage, and, despite having a line of people waiting to check in, he went looking.

He found someone who thought they had something in their car, so I waited at the edge of warm up area until she came back with a bandage that I lovingly applied to my poor heel. I could still feel it a little bit, but the pain was greatly reduced and I felt comfortable running.

The official warm ups were led by a professional Elvis impersonator, who walked us through a variety of Elvis-themed moves designed to embarrass, I mean, limber us up. After that, we gathered behind the timing gate, and tried to listen to instructions. Unfortunately, the speakers were pointed away from that area, so the instructions were muffled until someone turned them around. Then we learned that it's rude to pass an old man on a bicycle, so for the first lap, the fastest runners were to stay behind him to make sure everyone stayed on course.

I was not one of the fastest runners - no danger at all of me passing the man (who was the very Elvis  who had checked me in). I tried to keep in mind the principles of Chi running, and running my own race. I forced myself not to try and keep up with people running faster than me, even when I got passed and felt like I should be able to run faster.

There was one woman in a pink shirt that passed me on the first lap, and I vowed that I would catch her before the end of the race.

Because we could not run off the grounds of the MGM Grand, we ran around the old Grand Adventure park that was built during the era when Vegas tried to be family friendly (before, as we were told, they realized that children can't gamble). We started on a portion of drive, went down into the abandoned park and ran along the wall that separated it from the street, turning at the corner before angling on a slight incline back in the midst of the grounds. We passed piles of dirt and construction cones. We ran over covered cables.

We collected playing cards on each lap, and I thought that getting an ace for my first was a sign of good fortune to come.

It wasn't.

My final best hand was two pair, sevens and aces. The winning hand when I finished was four queens, and that wasn't even the final high hand.

But I ran my own race, even if I didn't win. I kept steady, focused on being conscious of my breathing and whether I was letting it get out of hand. I gradually pushed myself to go faster, keeping my form and not letting my strides go wild. And on the second to last lap, I caught sight of the woman in the pink shirt on the long straight section of the loop.

Faster and faster, I ignored how hard it was to breathe as I tried to reel her in. I pushed, and got closer. It was the last lap, and she disappeared around the corner off of the straightaway. I struggled to catch her as the course zig-zagged up and around a tent that blocked the view of the card table. All the way to the card table, I chased her, I knew I could run her down in the last little stretch between the finish line and the card table, I just knew it.

And I did.

Of course, it helped that she started walking as soon as she got her card. I resented her a little bit for not letting me catch and pass her in a more epic fashion.

But I finished under 31 minutes (30:45.42), with a 9:54 minute mile average pace. And I was still in the chute when the woman in pink crossed the line, so I gave her a high five. After all, she finished.

It wasn't my fastest 5K, but it was a lot closer than I thought it would be. And it was a race that I ran without ever having ITB issues, which was another win for me. My first race in almost 2 years, and I have to admit... It felt good. Like winning a jackpot.

Okay, not really.

But probably a better investment than playing the slots - $30 in exchange for a t-shirt, a bag, a water bottle and an excellent morning runner's high.

Friday, March 14, 2014

Working It Out

It was a good workout. I did a short set on the platform, 10 jumps at level 3, 10 step ups at level 4 and 10 step tries at level 5 (a step try is what happens when I can’t quite stand up with one leg, but I try). Then I did 2 miles running on the track, focusing on my breathing.

I used to think that I had exercise induced asthma. It was an excuse not to try hard in gym class, and an excuse for why I wasn’t athletically inclined, and, occasionally, an excuse to ride the elevator at school. But I haven’t used an inhaler for almost 5 years now, and the only times that I feel wheezy are when I’m around too much pet hair.

So when I first started running, I had an inhaler and I thought I needed it. But I read about how the throat can tighten up even when there is no asthma, from tension or stress or fear. So I focused on relaxing and breathing out fully and I learned how to run at slow paces, 10 to 12 minute miles being my comfort zone, and 1 mile in just over 8 minutes as my fastest. And then I stopped thinking about my breathing, as my ITB issues reared up and took over my attention.

The other day, when I forgot my music player and started to listen to myself breathe, I realized that my lack of speed was less about my muscles and more about my lungs. Whenever I sped up, I would tighten up and hyperventilate. I wouldn’t be getting enough air, and panic would tighten my chest and throat even more.

I had plateaued because I never finished learning how to breathe while exercising.

My first adventures in running started a process, whereby I figured out that it wasn’t asthma, but panic that I needed to get past. But I stopped too soon.

For the 2 miles I ran, I made myself breathe deeply. I became aware of how my chest shallows out my breath as I try to move faster. I told my throat to be open and relaxed. I listened to my favorite song to run with about 6 times (“Right on Time” by Skrillex - I feel like my form improves when I listen to it, and it makes me want to move). I did not go fast, but I feel like I’m making progress.

I did lunges with a 25 pound plate over my head to cool down, and finished up with some Bosu ball balancing before riding my bike home.

I was almost home. Maybe 3 blocks away. I turned left and saw 3 guys throwing 2 footballs and 1 car coming from the other direction. Silly me, I thought the guys would get off of the street with a car coming.

No.

Instead, the one facing away from me took a few steps back as he cocked his arm and loosed his ball towards his friend, who was trying to warn him that there was a bike coming at him, but he didn’t pay attention. I couldn’t go around him to the left, because CAR, and as I tried to go to the right, he stepped into my path. I rang my bell, but he didn’t seem to hear it so I braked and tried to halt before hitting him, sounds coming out of my mouth that might have been words, and he turned around and jerked his waist back while leaning his upper body forward to catch my handlebars and aid my brakes in bringing me to a halt.

He said he was sorry, “I’m sorry, sorry.”

As I rode away, I said, “I tried to ring my bell, but you moved right where I was dodging you.”

My words sounded stupid and thick in my head. I’d almost hit someone, almost ran into them bodily with a bicycle, right where it would hurt the most.

Still. It was a good workout.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

What Is This 'Winter' of which You Speak?

Here in Boise, the weather has inexplicably turned to spring. We’re getting temperatures in the 40s and 50s, and rain.

Call me crazy, but a small part of me was jealous of the snow that I got to see coming down on Chicago watching the Blackhawks play the Penguins at Soldier Field Saturday night. It’s been so long since I’ve been in snow like that, falling thick and piling up and sticking around for more than a day or two.

Sure, I don’t like the part about Chicago winters wherein the sun doesn’t come out for three months at a time, but I do miss the snow sometimes.

So while much of the country is still dancing with winter, I went on my first outdoor run of the year Sunday morning.

My husband and I left the house around 8am. The sun was already up, but covered in clouds. There were a few drizzly drops, but it wasn’t actually raining. It had rained overnight though, and my feet were soon cold and damp in my FiveFingers shoes.

It seems like the last few times I ran outside, I would forget about holding my core tight and my pelvis level and I would manage to aggravate my ITB issues - especially wearing those shoes. But this time, I focused on keeping my form. I ignored my sore calves and the wind trying to blow me back home as I ran out a little more than a mile and a half, dodging the earthworms and goose poop that littered my path.

I also focused on my breathing. When I forgot to charge my music player before Saturday’s run at the gym, I was a bit disappointed. I rely on music - especially when running on the track - to keep me from getting bored. But this time, without my distraction, I noticed how I was breathing. Even when I wasn’t running particularly hard or fast, my breathing would speed up and get shallow. I realized that I didn’t need to breathe like that; I could take deeper, slower breaths and still have enough air to run, more than enough.

I took that with me on Sunday’s run as well, though the cold air and wind made it harder to believe that I had enough air. I think I’ve been afraid to run faster, because I was already breathing so hard while running so slow. But if the breathing is just a trick, something I’ve taught myself through panic, then maybe I can run faster than I think.

I did run faster (and farther, a little) than my husband. That’s good - I’ve got nearly 22 years on him, I should be able to run faster! But I don’t think I’ll be beating my personal best 5K time when I race on 3/8.

Instead, I’m just going to have to have fun.

Darn!