Jill
Jill emailed me and asked me if I had some time after work to go for a bike ride. I confessed to her that I hadn't been on my bike since the Pinebush in July, but she was ok with short, flat and slow. We agreed to meet on the bike path at Lion's Park after work on Tuesday. I was looking forward to seeing Jill again - we had trained together for last year's Pinebush, and I hadn't seen her since last August. Jill is a lot of fun to train with, another social athlete, and she is pretty inspirational to me. She runs 11 minutes miles - but she runs a whole lot of them, back to back to back. I cheered for her in June of 2006 as she ran and completed the Lake Placid Half Marathon, and not only did she run up that beastly finishing hill, she was smiling while she did it. I like Jill.
Rich
I asked my friend Rich to join us - he had gotten a new hybrid for his birthday, but hadn't had much opportunity to ride. We have done a couple of rides together, including up and down Blatnick Hill, and the 15 miles Schenectady Community College loop which goes down the bile path and back Rt 5 over the Scotia Bridge. Rich is definitely not a Clydesdale, and he was a pretty good athlete in HS - he was recently inducted into the VI Sports Hall of Fame for track. He's got bad knees know, but he ran 4:45 miles in HS - pretty good. We kind of look like Mutt and Jeff together. Jill thinks he'd make a pretty good triathlete.
I finished work at 5, and because we didn't have a lot of light left, I changed in the men's room before I left. Rich lives about 3 miles from downtown, and but it took me thirty minutes to get to his house because of the traffic. After I inflated his tires to max, he put the bike, his helmet and his backpack into the back of the CRV. and we headed for Niskayuna at quarter to six.
It's Got to Be the Goin', Not the Gettin' There That's Good - Nah!
We made good time until we got to Rosendale Rd, only to find it barricaded with a detour sign. No problem. We went down a block to turn at the Reformed Church, only to find another barricade and detour sign. At Mohawk Rd, same deal. It was now past 6, and I did not have Jill's cell phone number. I swung around and headed east on Rt 7 again, going all the way to Buhrmaster Rd and was relieved to find it open. We went down the hill turned left on River Rd, and back to Rosendale - only to find more barricades.
I couldn't see any reason for the barricades - and I was within50 yards of Lion's Park - so I snuck around the barricade, and turned into the lot at about 6:10. Jill was waiting for us on the path, sitting at the table in front of the old train station. Since she drives home that way every night, she knew about the barricades, and knew enough to ignore them, but couldn't call me because she did not have my phone number either. Apparently the barricades are up because they are doing a lot of tree work farther down Rosendale, towards the turn off for the Lock. The barricades are to keep traffic away from the chippers. (No - this is not Cali, so the CHP's http://www.chp.ca.gov/ and Poncherello have nothing to do with this story).
Back in the Saddle Again....
Given that it was a little later than we wanted, and given I had run a 5K on Sunday and swam, and jogged and swam on Monday, we decide to call this a "recovery ride", meaning we headed east, away from Blatnick Hill, and rode on the flats. Good call. We averaged a rip roaring 10 mph, stopped both coming and going to look at the magic-hour sunset vistas on the river which open up 2 miles up from Lion's Park, just after you cross the wooden bridge, and we turned around 4 miles out, just before the path headed down to the road and barricades in the stretch before the twin bridges. Meaning we did no (zero, nil, none, zippo) hills.
We talked a whole year's worth of catch-up during those 8 miles, and we never once put our heads down and hammered. And, miracle of miracles, we did not feel compelled to jump off our bikes at the end and do a brick. We will probably fry in Triathlete's Hell (uphill both ways, into the wind both ways, and HHH), or at least Purgatory, but I don't care. It was nice to remember that, in addition to doing the 2nd leg of a triathlon, my bike can also be used as a recreational vehicle. We had a really nice time. We are going to do it again.
After My First Tri: Pinebush '06
Me & Coach Andrea - Armed and Dangerous!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
I Am Really Slow
How Slow Are You?
Yesterday I was out jogging with Donna and we took a short cut across a parking lot. I am so slow that the attendant came out and made me put a quarter in the meter!
Yesterday I was out jogging with Donna and we took a short cut across a parking lot. I am so slow that the attendant came out and made me put a quarter in the meter!
A New Kind of Brick Workout
When I Signed Up for Stroke Improvement, This Wasn't What I Envisioned
Last week Dodie, the "Fat Tire Flash", emailed me and told me she had signed up for a stroke improvement class at the Y and that I should come join her. At first I begged off, but after some thought, I remembered that triathletes participate in 3 sports, and that swimming was one of them. Since I had not been in the water since the Pinebush in July, and since I wasn't exactly setting the water on fire during that race (how's that for a mixed metaphor?), I reconsidered.
Which is how I was sitting on the bleachers at the shallow end of the Y pool at 7:25, listening to the nice young man tell the member that no, he could not swim in the closed off lanes, because he, Aaron (the nice young man) was scheduled to teach a "stroke improvement class in 5 minutes. But, since no one was there, and if no one came, he would open the lanes. Now, I know I am invisible to women, but ......... I may be invisible, but I can definitely be heard , so I spoke up and said I was the stroke improvement class he was waiting for. He looked at his clipboard and said, "You're not on my list" I explained that I had signed up and paid on Sunday, but he still didn't seem convinced. Then I said the magic names" "Dodie emailed me and and encouraged me to join" and "Kelly told me she might be here after her open house" Wow - worked like a charm! Wrote my name on the clipboard and everything.
He had me get in the pool and swim a lap using the breast stroke, while he watched. After I finished the laps, he said my arms were fine, but that I was lowering my left hip on the kick, and that my right leg was lifting up as it was going out, instead of remaining level in the water. He suggested that I try keeping my knees together as I brought them up to my chest, and to concentrate on starting both legs out at the same time. Great observation and great tip - it really helped and I'm going to work on it. (I do have to say that when I visualized his description of what I was doing wrong, I thought I should maybe be looking for a fire hydrant or a bush or something...)
Same deal for the crawl stroke - up and back, while he watched. He noted that I was crossing my right arm over, and that hands were entering the water on an angle that was a little too steep. He suggested concentrating on placing the right hand in straight, placing them into the water on a shallower angle, and on really extending each arm stroke. These were good tips, too, and I will be working on them.
And then the fun began. He said that in addition to technique, we (Kelly had finished with her open house and had joined us in the pool - he didn't look for her name on the clipboard! Dodie was still at her open house but will be returning next week - probably won't look for her name on the clipboard, either) needed endurance. Reminded me of the punchline to a joke about the wedding night conversation between a woman and her minister husband.
Anyway, to get this endurance, he has some drills for us - boy did he have some drills for us!
Who knew you could do pushups on the edge of a pool? And they are tough, too! We did laps with the elementary backstroke, and between laps, we did wall pushups. Then we did kick drills - on our faces, then on our backs, with the board and without the board. And - you guessed it - between drills we did wall pushups. Then we treaded water in 20 second intervals - first legs only, then hands only. We did this for two cycles and on the third cycle, a special treat, legs only and hands straight up out of the water. (Note - along with downhill on a bicycle, treading water is one of the few times when a little excess body fat is a good thing - good for Ron - not so good for Kelly, who has, like, 2% body fat)
But, my favorite was when he said we would do "bricks." As a triathlete, I know a "brick" as two disciplines back to back, especially bike to run. Since we are already in the pool, I'm wondering if we are now going to run or bike or what. No! When he said brick workout he meant we were going to work out with - bricks - 10# rubber- coated bricks, one for each of. I'm thinking maybe we are on the set of the "Sopranos" and he is going to tie it to my ankle.
I won't swear to this, because I was pretty tired by this time and I had a lot of water in my ears, but I think Kelly asked which one was heavier. To be fair to her, she probably had water in her ears and didn't hear him say that they were both 10#'s. Given our relative sizes and buoyancies, probably would have been fairer if I had the 10#'s and she had 10 oz.
No - he had an extra special treat for us. First we walk, with the bricks, to the middle of the pool. Then we each put a brick on our chests, and cross our hands over the brick, keeping our arms tight against our bodies. The he tells us to lean backwards into the water and kick, until we reach the wall. He neglects to tell us that leaning over backwards with a 10# brick on your chest means that your head immediately submarines to about 40 fathoms under the surface, and that about 38 of those fathoms immediately rush up your nostrils, making it very difficult to breathe. His solution was I should push my upper lip against my nose to seal off the nostrils - I can tell you that bit of contortion was not the solution that sprang to my mind. What's next - eyebrow licking?
He also tells us to lift our legs up close to the surface while we kick, neglecting to mention that getting the angle too steep means that you are propelling yourself not to the end of the pool but to the bottom. After 8 rounds of kick, sink, snort, resurface, blowhole and breathe, I reach the end of the pool. (Kelly struggles a little, but does really well and makes it to the wall long before me)
He says that he normally has the class do this several times, but taking note of my stellar performance - and the advancing clock - he says we (mostly me) don't have to do this again. Guess he didn't understand the masochistic nature of triathletes - even if they are SFT's like me. So - we go out to the middle, grab the damn brick and do it again. This time, it only takes me 6 cycles to reach the wall. Wow - 25% improvement!
At 8:15 he tells us class is over. We mention that he had done an hour last week with Dodie. He says yes he had, but then Dodie told him class was just 45 minutes, which it is supposed to be. I ask if he is ok with going the last 15 minutes. He is game and says he is leaving at 8:30 anyway, so, why not? So, we work on the mechanics of the back crawl, learning new ways to snort water, feel graceless, and torment new muscle groups.
When it is all over, he tells us if he has done his job right we will be sore tomorrow, and that the sorer we are, the better he will feel. Does that sentitment seem as skewed to you as it does to me? Kelly and I both thank him and say goodnight. After, we go to the hot tub - Kelly to soak her sore calf (from the backstroke kicking) and me my sore hamstring (I strained it during the first 3 blocks of my noontime run today) and we both decide that this was work and that we will be sore - and that we both like it and will definitely be back next week.
Last week Dodie, the "Fat Tire Flash", emailed me and told me she had signed up for a stroke improvement class at the Y and that I should come join her. At first I begged off, but after some thought, I remembered that triathletes participate in 3 sports, and that swimming was one of them. Since I had not been in the water since the Pinebush in July, and since I wasn't exactly setting the water on fire during that race (how's that for a mixed metaphor?), I reconsidered.
Which is how I was sitting on the bleachers at the shallow end of the Y pool at 7:25, listening to the nice young man tell the member that no, he could not swim in the closed off lanes, because he, Aaron (the nice young man) was scheduled to teach a "stroke improvement class in 5 minutes. But, since no one was there, and if no one came, he would open the lanes. Now, I know I am invisible to women, but ......... I may be invisible, but I can definitely be heard , so I spoke up and said I was the stroke improvement class he was waiting for. He looked at his clipboard and said, "You're not on my list" I explained that I had signed up and paid on Sunday, but he still didn't seem convinced. Then I said the magic names" "Dodie emailed me and and encouraged me to join" and "Kelly told me she might be here after her open house" Wow - worked like a charm! Wrote my name on the clipboard and everything.
He had me get in the pool and swim a lap using the breast stroke, while he watched. After I finished the laps, he said my arms were fine, but that I was lowering my left hip on the kick, and that my right leg was lifting up as it was going out, instead of remaining level in the water. He suggested that I try keeping my knees together as I brought them up to my chest, and to concentrate on starting both legs out at the same time. Great observation and great tip - it really helped and I'm going to work on it. (I do have to say that when I visualized his description of what I was doing wrong, I thought I should maybe be looking for a fire hydrant or a bush or something...)
Same deal for the crawl stroke - up and back, while he watched. He noted that I was crossing my right arm over, and that hands were entering the water on an angle that was a little too steep. He suggested concentrating on placing the right hand in straight, placing them into the water on a shallower angle, and on really extending each arm stroke. These were good tips, too, and I will be working on them.
And then the fun began. He said that in addition to technique, we (Kelly had finished with her open house and had joined us in the pool - he didn't look for her name on the clipboard! Dodie was still at her open house but will be returning next week - probably won't look for her name on the clipboard, either) needed endurance. Reminded me of the punchline to a joke about the wedding night conversation between a woman and her minister husband.
Anyway, to get this endurance, he has some drills for us - boy did he have some drills for us!
Who knew you could do pushups on the edge of a pool? And they are tough, too! We did laps with the elementary backstroke, and between laps, we did wall pushups. Then we did kick drills - on our faces, then on our backs, with the board and without the board. And - you guessed it - between drills we did wall pushups. Then we treaded water in 20 second intervals - first legs only, then hands only. We did this for two cycles and on the third cycle, a special treat, legs only and hands straight up out of the water. (Note - along with downhill on a bicycle, treading water is one of the few times when a little excess body fat is a good thing - good for Ron - not so good for Kelly, who has, like, 2% body fat)
But, my favorite was when he said we would do "bricks." As a triathlete, I know a "brick" as two disciplines back to back, especially bike to run. Since we are already in the pool, I'm wondering if we are now going to run or bike or what. No! When he said brick workout he meant we were going to work out with - bricks - 10# rubber- coated bricks, one for each of. I'm thinking maybe we are on the set of the "Sopranos" and he is going to tie it to my ankle.
I won't swear to this, because I was pretty tired by this time and I had a lot of water in my ears, but I think Kelly asked which one was heavier. To be fair to her, she probably had water in her ears and didn't hear him say that they were both 10#'s. Given our relative sizes and buoyancies, probably would have been fairer if I had the 10#'s and she had 10 oz.
No - he had an extra special treat for us. First we walk, with the bricks, to the middle of the pool. Then we each put a brick on our chests, and cross our hands over the brick, keeping our arms tight against our bodies. The he tells us to lean backwards into the water and kick, until we reach the wall. He neglects to tell us that leaning over backwards with a 10# brick on your chest means that your head immediately submarines to about 40 fathoms under the surface, and that about 38 of those fathoms immediately rush up your nostrils, making it very difficult to breathe. His solution was I should push my upper lip against my nose to seal off the nostrils - I can tell you that bit of contortion was not the solution that sprang to my mind. What's next - eyebrow licking?
He also tells us to lift our legs up close to the surface while we kick, neglecting to mention that getting the angle too steep means that you are propelling yourself not to the end of the pool but to the bottom. After 8 rounds of kick, sink, snort, resurface, blowhole and breathe, I reach the end of the pool. (Kelly struggles a little, but does really well and makes it to the wall long before me)
He says that he normally has the class do this several times, but taking note of my stellar performance - and the advancing clock - he says we (mostly me) don't have to do this again. Guess he didn't understand the masochistic nature of triathletes - even if they are SFT's like me. So - we go out to the middle, grab the damn brick and do it again. This time, it only takes me 6 cycles to reach the wall. Wow - 25% improvement!
At 8:15 he tells us class is over. We mention that he had done an hour last week with Dodie. He says yes he had, but then Dodie told him class was just 45 minutes, which it is supposed to be. I ask if he is ok with going the last 15 minutes. He is game and says he is leaving at 8:30 anyway, so, why not? So, we work on the mechanics of the back crawl, learning new ways to snort water, feel graceless, and torment new muscle groups.
When it is all over, he tells us if he has done his job right we will be sore tomorrow, and that the sorer we are, the better he will feel. Does that sentitment seem as skewed to you as it does to me? Kelly and I both thank him and say goodnight. After, we go to the hot tub - Kelly to soak her sore calf (from the backstroke kicking) and me my sore hamstring (I strained it during the first 3 blocks of my noontime run today) and we both decide that this was work and that we will be sore - and that we both like it and will definitely be back next week.
Time after Time
Donna, who is my colleague, friend and training partner ( and likely triathlete next season) runs in a lot of 5K's, at least one every week, frequently two in a weekend, and every now and then, two in one day. She is strong and fit, regularly runs in the high 20's, and seems to thrive on them.
But our conversation after last Sunday's Teal Ribbon 5K http://www.caringtogetherny.org got both of us thinking that maybe she should cut back just a little.
Donna: The timing people here today are the same people who timed the DARE Race in Niskayuna yesterday
Me: You recognized the people at the finish line doing the timing?
Donna: Sure. And I thought I passed their truck on road when I was driving over here this morning.
Me: You recognized their truck, too?
Don't know about you, but the only thing I see at the finish of a 5K is the big clock and the numbers, and I'm trying to make it in under some arbitrary number, like, say, 90 minutes. I am usually aware of the chute, because there is usually one there, and I am vaguely aware that someone is prompting me to slow down (ain't that ironic ) and trying to steer me into the tangle of ropes and tiny little flags. But as far as I'm concerned, the voice is disembodied, and I have no clue who or what it belongs to.
When I get to the end of the chute, somebody or several somebodies want me to stop so they can rip the tag off my race bib (Maybe if I do this long enough and get really, really svelte and fit, someone will want to rip my shirt off - but that's more along the lines of a hallucination than a fantasy) At this point, I am trying to remember how to breathe, and trying really, really hard to keep it together enough so that some well meaning volunteer isn't going to say to me, "Sir, are you all right?" in a tone that means "Should I get the paramedics over here, stat?" Gees do I hate it when they call me "sir"
And I am trying to stand up straight and put my hands over my head, as opposed to bending over, grabbing my knees and begging my lungs to start working again, because my running companion Nick L told me what he'd been taught: that I finished the race, that I am a winner and I should act like one and not slump over like a loser.
Given all that, Jessica Alba and Jessica Biel could be in that chute and I would neither recognize nor remember either one of them.
So I am amazed that Donna not only sees the people, but she recognizes them, calls them by name and asks after their kids. Next thing you know, she'll be putting them on her Xmas card list. At that point, she really should cut back a little on her 5K's!
But our conversation after last Sunday's Teal Ribbon 5K http://www.caringtogetherny.org got both of us thinking that maybe she should cut back just a little.
Donna: The timing people here today are the same people who timed the DARE Race in Niskayuna yesterday
Me: You recognized the people at the finish line doing the timing?
Donna: Sure. And I thought I passed their truck on road when I was driving over here this morning.
Me: You recognized their truck, too?
Don't know about you, but the only thing I see at the finish of a 5K is the big clock and the numbers, and I'm trying to make it in under some arbitrary number, like, say, 90 minutes. I am usually aware of the chute, because there is usually one there, and I am vaguely aware that someone is prompting me to slow down (ain't that ironic ) and trying to steer me into the tangle of ropes and tiny little flags. But as far as I'm concerned, the voice is disembodied, and I have no clue who or what it belongs to.
When I get to the end of the chute, somebody or several somebodies want me to stop so they can rip the tag off my race bib (Maybe if I do this long enough and get really, really svelte and fit, someone will want to rip my shirt off - but that's more along the lines of a hallucination than a fantasy) At this point, I am trying to remember how to breathe, and trying really, really hard to keep it together enough so that some well meaning volunteer isn't going to say to me, "Sir, are you all right?" in a tone that means "Should I get the paramedics over here, stat?" Gees do I hate it when they call me "sir"
And I am trying to stand up straight and put my hands over my head, as opposed to bending over, grabbing my knees and begging my lungs to start working again, because my running companion Nick L told me what he'd been taught: that I finished the race, that I am a winner and I should act like one and not slump over like a loser.
Given all that, Jessica Alba and Jessica Biel could be in that chute and I would neither recognize nor remember either one of them.
So I am amazed that Donna not only sees the people, but she recognizes them, calls them by name and asks after their kids. Next thing you know, she'll be putting them on her Xmas card list. At that point, she really should cut back a little on her 5K's!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
A Lot of Running Around, but No Running
Brenda Deer, Sort Of
I planned to run in the Brenda Deer - really, I did. But, Emily wanted to get to Boston on Saturday to see her friends before she left for Italy, and she wanted to go to a BC football game, the only one she would get to this year. So, I did a lot of running around on Saturday morning, while the final packing and preparations were being taken care of at home, and off we went. In other words, nothing runs like a deer, but I didn't run in the Deer.
But, our very own Kelly the Quick, and Jenn B and Donna C did. Kelly the Quick took a first in age group and 4th overall (women)! Jenn B said the weather and pace made it a very hard race for her, but she toughed it out and finished in a very good time. Donna also told me the 3 H's made this a tough race: hot, humid, and THE HILL. She also had a good time and finished just a few seconds behind Jenn. You can find the results here: http://www.albanyrunningexchange.org/results/searchResults.php?Race=../results/csv/2007/0908brenda5k.csv
By the way, Kelly, Donna and Jenn are all training for longer races later this season - half marathons, Stockade-athon. etc. Good luck to them - but given how hard they all work, we know that their success will have very little to do with luck.
Guess What They Have in Newton, MA? (No, not figs)
While we were waiting to get Emily on Sunday, we stopped in Newton, MA, just down the street from the BC campus in Chestnut Hill. A quaint and lovely town, with public gardens, complete with sculptures, sidewalks and the kinds of shops where you can spend both the whole day and the entire contents of your wallet. We ended up in a pizzeria for lunch (2 slices of sundried tomatoes and caramelized onions for me) Gives you an idea of the kind of training I got in last week. But - even if I was not running, I was thinking about it.
Bill's House of Pizza sponsors a 5K! Who knew? And you know what everybody gets after the race? Not bagels - PIZZA! Wow - I may just have to check my calendar and make the trip. If BC is playing at home that day, it could be the perfect trip. If you are going to be in the Boston area at the end of October and want to check it out (the town, the race, the pizza or all three), here's the link: http://billspizzeria.com/
Coming Up Next....
Up next, the Teal Ribbon 5K, a benefit for ovarian cancer research. Donna will be there, and Kelly's husband, too. If you have the time, come on down to Washington Park and cheer on the runners and support a great cause. Here's some additional information: http://www.cbs6albany.com/onset?id=23523&template=article.html
Friday, September 7, 2007
Everything Hurts, And If It Don’t Hurt, It Probably Don’t Work
One of the great things about coming to 5K’s and triathlons at the age of 57 is that I haven’t spent the years beating up my body with the stress and pounding of training and racing. Nope, I’ve beat it up the old-fashioned way, with sloth and gluttony, leading to way too much weight and way too little muscle. Now that old age is working hand-in-hand with gravity, I get to have (remember the old Doublemint ads?) two – clap, two - clap, two times the fun! So, let’s do a little inventory and then reflect a bit.
Hearing
Whadja say? .
Vision
Can’t see far and I can’t see near. Given me and mirrors, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – except when shaving.
Shoulder
I’ve got a bum rotator cuff in my right shoulder. Probably caused by eight years of coaching baseball, accelerated by the last two years. Jon wanted to learn to pitch guess who his personal coach and catcher was?. Took way too long before I figured out that if I was throwing back each pitch, I was throwing as many pitches as he was. He was 12 – and I wasn’t. The solution was to buy two dozen balls and a bucket but, like I said, it took me way too long to figure it out.
Now every now and then if I stick my arm out just right, the shoulder “freezes” and I walk around with my arm out sticking straight out, just like Boris Karloff in “The Mummy”.
Left Knee
Has been “popping” a little when I move just the right way (wrong way?) for years. Kind of figured I needed to do something when the knee went out and my left leg collapsed 3 times during a single slow walk on the bike path. After the x-ray and MRI, I learned there wasn’t too much cartilage in there (the horseshoe- shaped gaps representing cartilage that are supposed to show up on each side of your knee in an x-ray looked more like lumpy pancakes), and that the only thing surgery would do would be to clean out the knee to make it nice and neat before they replaced it. Not going there yet.
So, I got a brace and 6 months of therapy to strengthen the muscles around the knee. That was pretty much weighted ankle-cuff exercises for the 4 major thigh muscles, step-up and step downs, ring around the rosy on the treadmill (forward, sideways and backwards walking ) rolling around on the BAP platform, machines and stretching. Stretching was my favorite part – especially when the therapist kneeled on the table with me and tried to put my left foot in my left ear. A little kinky, but fun.
Seems to have worked – I don’t wear the brace any more, unless I am out hiking in the mountains, and my knee hasn’t buckled since then. Gets a little twingey every now and then when I am walking up hill, and a little puffy after a tri – but I’ll take it.
Back
When Walt Whitman talked about “I Sing the Body Electric”, I don’t think he was talking about that little electric zing that I felt cross my lower back about 15 years ago when I bent over to pick up a surge protector. Now I’ve got “Rice Krispies” back – every time I move it goes Snap! Crackle! and Pop!
Was in bed for days after that first little zing, not moving except when I had spasms - they were fun - not getting better. Needed to get seen by a doctor to get some muscle relaxers to start loosening up – but I couldn’t get out of bed. So, they came and got me and took me out on a stretcher. Don’t know if it was more painful for me or the poor slobs who had to lug my corpulence down the stairs and out of the house – probably for them.
Foreign doctor on call at the emergency room was going to give me a shot – then he got a good look at me, commented that I was “a thick fellow” – and doubled the dose in the syringe. I learned that muscle relaxers do two things: 1. Make you weepy 2: Lower your IQ about 50 points. But, they did get me moving again, and let me get to therapy.
Back is pretty much ok most of the time now, unless I stand too long, sit too long, ride in a car too long, pick up anything heavier than a toothbrush, sneeze or turn the wrong way – which could be any way at all. Lots of mornings the back causes the left leg around the knee to go numb. Most days this happens at work. To fix this, I bend over and try to stretch out my lower back and hamstrings, while keeping my legs fairly straight. I try to do this discreetly, as to not give the idea I am mooning someone, which could cause me to get brought up on sexual harassment charges – or propositioned.
The Cure
I’ve gotten lots of advice – stretching, strengthening exercises, tai chi, yoga – most of which I ignore. Who’s got time for all that? Besides, if I could stand up and put my head on my knees while keeping my legs straight – I wouldn’t have any need to have to do that! Sort of a Catch-22, don’t you think? ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki
I have found out that if I move just the right way sometimes, I feel a little "click" in my lower back and I feel ok again. If I can't find the magic click, I’ve discovered the miracle drug: Vitamin I Yes, that’s right, all I have to do to overcome the rigors of old age and bodily deterioration is, ta-da, take 3 ibuprofens before and after exercising. Did you know they are a lot cheaper if you buy them at Wal-Marts in bottles of 500?
An Example
So, how do all these aches and pains and maladies affect my day-to-day life? Consider the following: I keep my key ring on a magnetic holder attached to the side of the refrigerator (too much crap on the front of it to put them there). Every now and then – ok, often – I miss the hook and drop them down into that too narrow space between the counter and the refrigerator. First I hear them drop – sort of. Then I try to see them. Can’t get my head in the right angle with my glasses on and can’t see anything with the glasses off. Then I have to try to get down to a kneeling position – remembering which is the good knee and which is the bad knee.
I reach in as far as I can, craning my neck to get every last inch of extension I can. The keys are too far in, and reaching out too far causes my shoulder to freeze up. I try to pull back, which tweaks my back, causing it to start complaining. I try to get up, but now my knee has gone to sleep, and grabbing the counter doesn’t help too much because my shoulder is also snoozing. I usually end up grabbing a broom and trying to sweep the keys toward me, hoping I don’t push them under the refrigerator. I now know why my parents have those gizmos (apple pickers?) with the grippers at one end and the squeeze handles at the other all over their apartment.
Back to the 5K’s
So, since I’m such a wreck I should quit doing the 5K’s, right? Nah – consider this. At the 5K, they have stuff to eat and drink. They give you a bib, to keep stuff off your shirt when you are eating and drinking, and it has your name on it, in case you forget. They tell you where to go and when to start. At the end, there is a big sign so you know when you have finished, and there are people cheering for you when you do. To get from the start to the finish, all you have to do is put one leg in front of the other. So, the way I figure it, getting through a 5K is usually a whole lot easier than getting through the rest of my day!
Thursday, September 6, 2007
SEFCU Foundation Labor Day 5k September 3, 2007 Race Report
Something Old, Something New…. /guilderland/Brenda/index.htm
This was my 4th 5K since I started running them in early July. While there were plenty of new things to observe from my usual spot at the back of the pack, many of the sights and sounds are becoming familiar and almost comfortable.
Volunteers with SEFCU shirts and international orange flags waved me into what used to be the Washington Avenue lot, where I used to catch the shuttle bus to downtown and the Smith Building (http://www.emporis.com/en/il
Everywhere I looked, sprites and elf-boys were warming up, nary a Clydesdale or SFT to be seen. Always amazes me that these people run before the race to warm up, then run the race, and then run after the race to cool down – my take on this is that they all either drink way too much coffee or are seriously addicted to endorphins, or both.
The high school track teams were there, too, from both Colonie and Averill Park – must be poorer school districts, because they all seemed to be wearing cotton t-shirts and nylon gym shorts - I didn’t see a single color-coordinated mid-riff baring lycra running outfit anywhere.
I picked up my race number – 305 – at the tent, and was impressed that the tear off tag had a computer printed label on it, complete with my name and vitals. No goody bag this time, though, so I couldn’t add to my growing collection of sawdust bars and chiropractic coupons.
They did give out t-shirts – but were out of XL by the time I got there at 8:40. I couldn’t figure this one out – I mean, there were like only 2 of us big enough to wear XL and the box was empty – but they still had scads of the XT (extra-tiny) sizes worn by sprites and elf-boys. Go figure. Maybe they were doubling up – you know, one sprite plus elf-boy inside one XL shirt? Since I plan to donate these shirts to a downtown food pantry which gives the shirts to those in need it didn’t really matter, so I got a plain “L”.
And, I always try to follow Coach Andrea’s very fluid advice – drink until 30 minutes before race time and then stop. Actually it’s more like drink until 30 minutes before the race and then “go”, which is to say there were lots of porta potties at this event – and the seemingly endless lines of people waiting to use them.
On Your Mark….
Having been to 4 of these now, I am beginning to understand lemmings. Responding to some unseen, unheard command, the mass of runners slowly amoeba’d over to the start line. I cut to the side of the road, walked along the grasss and worked my way to the back. Once I got there and scrutinized my fellow “back of packers” (BP'ers))– and tried to figure out if there was anyone I might be able to beat. Turns out I handicap these races about as well as I do the ones at Saratoga, which is to say not well.
At some point, the race director addressed us. At least I think he did – from where I was standing, and given my hearing, it was like listening to the speakers announcing the trains at Penn Station – I know some important information was given out, but I am clueless as to what it was. I knew he was done when the crowd started their version of the “wave” – applause that started at the front of the pack and gradually rippled its way back to me.. I have no clue what I was applauding for, but it seemed the polite thing to do. And then we were off.
Observations from the Back of the Pack
I love races with clearly delineated start lines, because I know exactly when to start the timer on my watch. This one had a very clear grey line - almost looked like duct tape (1000 and 2 uses!) – but probably wasn’t.
This time, the woman with the baby jogger passed me within the first 50 yards – in 2 minutes she was out of sight and I never saw her again.
Took the race-walker about a quarter of a mile before he disappeared from my view – too bad, because he was a nice guy and was very encouraging to all of us BP’ers.
The guy with the purple U Albany shirt tucked into his blue lycra bike shorts kept up his slow but steady jog and pulled away from me each time I stopped to walk – but at least I was color-coordinated!
By the time I had gone a quarter mile - down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill and around the corner to the flats – I pretty much knew who would be keeping me company, and who I would be trying to beat.
The 12 year old boy and girl were first – they were alternately sprinting furiously and then walking – I knew they were inexperienced and that they would quickly fade – and they did. Now – don’t go getting all sympathetic because they were only 12 – lots of kids that young or younger routinely kick my butt – see the results here: http://www.hmrrc.com/View/PDFs
The two teen-aged girls were next – they were wearing long pants, and faded in the first half mile.
And then it was down to the hard core BP’ers. (Back of the Packers)
Eline – 17 yrs old, an exchange student from the Netherlands, currently attending Columbia HS – this was her first race. We’d talk a bit when I‘d catch up to her – and then she would take off running. She kept looking around – just to see who might be gaining on her. More about her later.
Lorrie – petite, another run/walker who told me she didn’t run up hills anymore. She was 57, but her white hair fooled me into thinking she was older. We’d talk a little , too – and then she was gone. More about her later, too.
And for most of the race, 50 yards ahead – another Clydesdale. He was on the run/walk program, too. He was about my size – maybe taller, and looked about 15 years younger. He was with a young lady who looked about his age – maybe a girl friend. She appeared to be a bit faster than he was, but they were pretty much together.
A Word About the Course
Even though I had never run this route before, I knew the course – sort of. It looped past the Washington Avenue lot and then partially around the Harriman Campus, crossed over to the other lane and then circled back to the SEFCU headquarters. I’d driven the road plenty of times – the route was Step 3 in the “Teach Your Children to Drive” program, with Step 1 being the Washington Avenue Parking Lot, and Step 2 being the quiet back streets of our neighborhood. I’d brought both kids over to drive this loop on Sunday mornings when they were ready for a little more speed – 40 mph is terrifyingly fast when you’re just learning and the fastest you have gone so far is a blazing 20 mph.
But, you drive the loop counter-clockwise and we were running it clockwise – what a difference a "way” makes!
I talked about the first mile above. The second mile was pretty flat. The third mile, on the other hand, was not. Shortly after the 2 mile mark, like the South, it rises again. It’s gradual, not steep like the Guilderland Y, but it is steady for maybe a half mile. By someplace in the middle of it, me and Eline and Lorrie and the other guy and his friend were pretty bunched up and doing a lot of walking.
Back to the Race
And then I got perverse. I figured that with all that hill training with Dorie and Donna and Maria, I’d give it a go – and I did. It wasn’t the world’s fastest run, but I caught Eline and Lorrie, and finally, the other big guy. I stayed ahead of them down the dip and under the overpass and up the hill to the final approach. Up ahead, on the right, were a bunch of people cheering and taking my picture – oh, wait – they weren’t cheering for me, or taking my picture – they were cheering for Eline! She crested the hill and put on a burst of speed and flew by me – and there was no way I could keep up with her, even downhill. She beat me by over a minute – and picked up all that time on me over the last quarter mile.
To add insult to injury, Lorrie, Ms “I Don’t Run Up Hills Anymore” apparently had no such qualms about downhills – and she pulled ahead of me and beat me to the finish line, too.
But – I was the faster of the two BP’er Clydesdales – not by much, but by enough.
39:46 by my watch, 487 out of 528 finishers – not a PB, but not a PW (is there such a term?) either. True confession: I had neither the legs, the lungs, nor the guts to stay with or catch Eline and Lorrie. They outsmarted me and outran me - good for them, not so good for me.
And for Your Post Race Dining Pleasure
Bottles of water, oranges, and bagels – bagel pieces, actually. I guess the sprites and elf boys can’t eat a whole bagel, so they broke them into small pieces, you know, like the loaves and the fishes. I know you are supposed to carb up after a race – that the optimum time post- exercise for glycogen replacement is 1 hr. after the end of the race. It’s just that my carb of choice would probably be manufactured by Mr. Adams (Sam Adams, that is) not Mr. Breugger. So I skipped both the snacks and the award ceremony and went to see Duncan (Mr. Donut to you), where I had both the loaf and the fish ( a complete bagel with salmon cream cheese) and washed it down with a cup of coffee – with cream. Which is why I am neither a sprite, nor an elf boy!
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