Here in central PA we get two snowstorms of more than a foot twice per decade (according to the local news). Wednesday, we might get our third of the season.
After a very snowy December, things got quiet for about a month, but last weekend's 20 inches more than made up for it and this week's forecast is just as scary.
All this is mildly intriguing if you just live here, but if you're trying to train for a marathon, well, it's just another monkey in the wrench.
All of that being said, I have averaged the workout volume each month for the past three months that I had in my previous one month prior to my last marathon. Put another way, in the worst weather for training, I've never been fitter.
When the wife and I finished the basement three years ago, we made one room a pseudo-workout room. It has a vinyl floor (unlike the carpeted rest) and a TV and DVR. It also has its own treadmill and my bike is on a trainer. After last week, it also has an elliptical - a very old but hopefully reliable commercial grade model I found on Craigslist after nearly a month of fanatic monitoring for a hopefully dynamite price of $350.
Yesterday, for instance, I did 5 miles on the treadmill, followed by a hard hour on the elliptical, followed by 3 miles running on the treadmill and 2 miles walking. All told, nearly 17 miles of movement, accomplished in a 12 x 10' room, supplemented with copious episodes of Law & Order.
There are hidden blessings, too. My finicky shin doesn't like all the speed work in my plan, and the excessive cross training is keeping me healthy, and that's really what it's all about at this point: doing more and staying healthier while I do it.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
ART Therapy for Shinsplints
As I write this, I've just "graduated" from ART Therapy on my left shin after five sessions.
Incidentally, when I posted on my Facebook that I was getting ART Therapy, most of my friends assumed I was getting a tattoo, which led to a wide variety of comments on my Facebook wall. Everything from people telling me not to scar myself forever to others asking me to post pictures. It was an interesting little exchange, both from my "friends" who were shocked I'd consider a tattoo to those trying to pawn off their designs on me.
But no.... this was ART Therapy - Active Release Therapy.
In a nutshell, ART is deep massaging of the muscles that run up and down your shin. The concept is that you can break down adhesions that have formed between your muscle and bone.
Although I tend to hate doctors, I decided to do ART for two reasons:
1. I've moved to the point in my training where I'm doing speed work once a week. Historically, once I do speed work, my shins act up and I'm going to need speed work to get to Boston. In December, I missed a few key workouts due to shin pain.
2. Unlike many therapies, ART is relatively short term. My Dr. told me he'd do 4-8 treatments. In the end, we stopped at 5. The appointments themselves were much shorter than I expected them to be - about 15 minutes. As the Dr. is only 10 minutes from work, I just did it over my lunch hour.
After 5 treatments done over a 12 day period, I now have zero shin pain. While this could be coincidence, I tend to think not, as I've done two very hard workouts in the past five days.
The work for me, however, isn't over. Shin problems appear from a lack of flexibility. I've been doing a better job of stretching for the last year but had read plenty that suggested I wouldn't have long-term relief - even with stretching - if I didn't break down the adhesions, first. Now I have and it's up to me to keep up with the stretching.
*
In other news, my training is going pretty well - extremely well, given the awful winter weather. While I'm not running higher mileage than I ever have, I'm running much different intensities than I have, and the results are definitely showing.
There's not a whole lot to say about it, really, as there aren't many races right now, and many workouts are being done in less than optimum conditions. But I do believe I'm breaking through to different places and am hopeful they'll lead to a sub 3:15 marathon in the spring.
Incidentally, when I posted on my Facebook that I was getting ART Therapy, most of my friends assumed I was getting a tattoo, which led to a wide variety of comments on my Facebook wall. Everything from people telling me not to scar myself forever to others asking me to post pictures. It was an interesting little exchange, both from my "friends" who were shocked I'd consider a tattoo to those trying to pawn off their designs on me.
But no.... this was ART Therapy - Active Release Therapy.
In a nutshell, ART is deep massaging of the muscles that run up and down your shin. The concept is that you can break down adhesions that have formed between your muscle and bone.
Although I tend to hate doctors, I decided to do ART for two reasons:
1. I've moved to the point in my training where I'm doing speed work once a week. Historically, once I do speed work, my shins act up and I'm going to need speed work to get to Boston. In December, I missed a few key workouts due to shin pain.
2. Unlike many therapies, ART is relatively short term. My Dr. told me he'd do 4-8 treatments. In the end, we stopped at 5. The appointments themselves were much shorter than I expected them to be - about 15 minutes. As the Dr. is only 10 minutes from work, I just did it over my lunch hour.
After 5 treatments done over a 12 day period, I now have zero shin pain. While this could be coincidence, I tend to think not, as I've done two very hard workouts in the past five days.
The work for me, however, isn't over. Shin problems appear from a lack of flexibility. I've been doing a better job of stretching for the last year but had read plenty that suggested I wouldn't have long-term relief - even with stretching - if I didn't break down the adhesions, first. Now I have and it's up to me to keep up with the stretching.
*
In other news, my training is going pretty well - extremely well, given the awful winter weather. While I'm not running higher mileage than I ever have, I'm running much different intensities than I have, and the results are definitely showing.
There's not a whole lot to say about it, really, as there aren't many races right now, and many workouts are being done in less than optimum conditions. But I do believe I'm breaking through to different places and am hopeful they'll lead to a sub 3:15 marathon in the spring.
Monday, December 14, 2009
5k PR, et. al.
I realized I should probably say Merry Christmas in this post because my blog is definitely at the bottom of the priority list. Chances are, this will be the last I post for a few weeks. But even so, no blogging doesn't mean things aren't going well...
For the past six weeks or so, I've been running under the guidance of Missy Foy, the first "coach" I've had in more than fifteen years. The goal? Get me over the Boston hump.
Because the marathon isn't until May, we're in a looong slow build-up. Even so, she has me doing a lot of new stuff, including:
* drills
* core work
* odd hill workouts
* tempos on long runs
In short, a lot of different stuff and I'm a big believer in different.
Yesterday, I did the local Jingle Bell 5k - my last race of the year. Despite the 35 degree weather and freezing rain, I knocked off a 19:38 PR, along the way beating a handful of guys that - quite frankly - I never beat. Considering we're just beginning training, I was pretty pleased.
Curiously, since my lackluster marathon in September, I've rolled off four age group placings in a row, my longest string to date. So really, there's nothing to complain about.
In addition, the diabetes control has been, in a word: typical. I've had high days and low days, but mostly, just days. I'm used to the Apidra (though I only fill my pump to 3/4 because it craps out on me after 3 days) and the Dex (currently getting better than 10 days on most of my sensors) and I've got no complaints at all.
If I wanted to complain, which I generally do, I'd mention my shin is acting up again, but I'm hoping to stretch it and compress it into submission. Also, it's early in the season, so there's really no reason to panic at all.
Looking forward to 2010. Looks like I've got a trip to Europe for work in late Feb. and a Florida vacation in early May followed by a marathon in mid-May. What can I say? I'm a lucky guy.
For the past six weeks or so, I've been running under the guidance of Missy Foy, the first "coach" I've had in more than fifteen years. The goal? Get me over the Boston hump.
Because the marathon isn't until May, we're in a looong slow build-up. Even so, she has me doing a lot of new stuff, including:
* drills
* core work
* odd hill workouts
* tempos on long runs
In short, a lot of different stuff and I'm a big believer in different.
Yesterday, I did the local Jingle Bell 5k - my last race of the year. Despite the 35 degree weather and freezing rain, I knocked off a 19:38 PR, along the way beating a handful of guys that - quite frankly - I never beat. Considering we're just beginning training, I was pretty pleased.
Curiously, since my lackluster marathon in September, I've rolled off four age group placings in a row, my longest string to date. So really, there's nothing to complain about.
In addition, the diabetes control has been, in a word: typical. I've had high days and low days, but mostly, just days. I'm used to the Apidra (though I only fill my pump to 3/4 because it craps out on me after 3 days) and the Dex (currently getting better than 10 days on most of my sensors) and I've got no complaints at all.
If I wanted to complain, which I generally do, I'd mention my shin is acting up again, but I'm hoping to stretch it and compress it into submission. Also, it's early in the season, so there's really no reason to panic at all.
Looking forward to 2010. Looks like I've got a trip to Europe for work in late Feb. and a Florida vacation in early May followed by a marathon in mid-May. What can I say? I'm a lucky guy.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Caring Diabetic
I'm so grateful for all of the comments I get on this blog, but I've always been partial to Al's. Why? Because he's not a diabetic. His son is and he reads my blog for insight into how to be a better parent. As a parent of two little riddles, myself, I soooo get that.
At any rate, Al posted a great comment last week:
"Have you always been so successful with controlling your bg levels? My son really does "care" about his diabetes, but struggles with roller coaster bgs. In your early 20's at college, were you as successful controlling your diabetes as you are now?
He adds: Right now he is very scared of lows and therefore runs high a lot."
Since going on the pump eight years ago, I haven't had an A1C over 7 that I can recall. Before that, I had tons of 7's with a smattering of 8's. During phases in my life where I didn't test as often, I'd rarely go beyond 8 but do recall a few 9's and one time (I think it was college) being over 10.
For me, the huge turning point was going on the pump. Prior to that I rode the NPH rollercoaster. Simply put, a diabetic with a big enough dose of NPH can get along OK - the NPH will usually bring you down within shouting distance of normal.
But when I went on the pump, it all made precision-like sense to me. Every meal, every dose could be calculated precisely. The "potential" negative to all of this, though, is that precision requires discipline. Unlike my roller coaster NPH shot, a pump patient at 300 is going to stay at 300 until they bolus extra. But I never minded, because it finally made sense.
Still, through all those years of testing once per day (or less), I was still generally in the 7's. Since being diagnosed 25 years ago, I've had only 2 ambulance rides for lows (and one additional ambulance visit) and none in the past 17 years.
I used the phrase "caring diabetic" in my last post and I think it's an important one, because I want to believe that diabetics who care about their diabetes stand a better chance of being complication-free. Here's what that phrase means to me:
1) A caring diabetic knows that there's always a reason for their blood sugar reading. My kids will tell you that nothing makes me angrier than when they do something dumb, I ask why, and they say, "I don't know." Give me a crappy reason, but there's always a reason. I have heard diabetics say "I was low/high and don't know why," and the same grumpy guy that yells at my kids tends to call bullshit on that. There's always a reason.
The "caring" diabetic makes a calculated guess to the reason - your infusion set was in too many days, you exercised too much/too little, you guessed your carbs wrong, etc. and goes with it, knowing they'll be smarter next time.
2) The caring diabetic corrects. This seems elementary to me, but I've known diabetics who don't correct highs. If you are high and you have no insulin on board and you're not going to be exercising, your blood sugar isn't coming down unless you care enough to bolus.
3) The caring diabetic tests. If you're on a pump, you test a lot. If you're not on a pump, you still test.
4) The caring diabetic doesn't worry about last week, last month or last year. The only blood sugar you can control is this one (and somewhat the next two hours). I don't understand diabetics who get down because they've had a bad week of blood sugars. Live here. Live now.
5) The caring diabetic analyzes last week, last month and last year. Notice I said you don't worry about it, but you do look at, study it and correct for it.
6) The caring diabetic looks for comrades but understands they're an island. I've seen soooo many diabetics succeed doing things that I couldn't or wouldn't do. Listening and learning from them is invaluable, but in the end how I respond to medicine, food and exercise is unique and always gets higher weight than anything anybody else has done. George Sheehan said, "We are all an experiment of one." He said it about running and I'd say it fits just as well for diabetes.
To this point, this shouldn't be taken as a universal post about what a "Caring Diabetic" is. It's only what it is to me. You might think a caring diabetic doesn't drink beer or eat candy, but I've never met a Peanut Butter Cup I didn't like and what's made Milwaukee famous helps me pass the hours. More than anything, I think what makes sense is to figure out what works for you and then make sure you stay on that path as much as possible.
At any rate, Al posted a great comment last week:
"Have you always been so successful with controlling your bg levels? My son really does "care" about his diabetes, but struggles with roller coaster bgs. In your early 20's at college, were you as successful controlling your diabetes as you are now?
He adds: Right now he is very scared of lows and therefore runs high a lot."
Since going on the pump eight years ago, I haven't had an A1C over 7 that I can recall. Before that, I had tons of 7's with a smattering of 8's. During phases in my life where I didn't test as often, I'd rarely go beyond 8 but do recall a few 9's and one time (I think it was college) being over 10.
For me, the huge turning point was going on the pump. Prior to that I rode the NPH rollercoaster. Simply put, a diabetic with a big enough dose of NPH can get along OK - the NPH will usually bring you down within shouting distance of normal.
But when I went on the pump, it all made precision-like sense to me. Every meal, every dose could be calculated precisely. The "potential" negative to all of this, though, is that precision requires discipline. Unlike my roller coaster NPH shot, a pump patient at 300 is going to stay at 300 until they bolus extra. But I never minded, because it finally made sense.
Still, through all those years of testing once per day (or less), I was still generally in the 7's. Since being diagnosed 25 years ago, I've had only 2 ambulance rides for lows (and one additional ambulance visit) and none in the past 17 years.
I used the phrase "caring diabetic" in my last post and I think it's an important one, because I want to believe that diabetics who care about their diabetes stand a better chance of being complication-free. Here's what that phrase means to me:
1) A caring diabetic knows that there's always a reason for their blood sugar reading. My kids will tell you that nothing makes me angrier than when they do something dumb, I ask why, and they say, "I don't know." Give me a crappy reason, but there's always a reason. I have heard diabetics say "I was low/high and don't know why," and the same grumpy guy that yells at my kids tends to call bullshit on that. There's always a reason.
The "caring" diabetic makes a calculated guess to the reason - your infusion set was in too many days, you exercised too much/too little, you guessed your carbs wrong, etc. and goes with it, knowing they'll be smarter next time.
2) The caring diabetic corrects. This seems elementary to me, but I've known diabetics who don't correct highs. If you are high and you have no insulin on board and you're not going to be exercising, your blood sugar isn't coming down unless you care enough to bolus.
3) The caring diabetic tests. If you're on a pump, you test a lot. If you're not on a pump, you still test.
4) The caring diabetic doesn't worry about last week, last month or last year. The only blood sugar you can control is this one (and somewhat the next two hours). I don't understand diabetics who get down because they've had a bad week of blood sugars. Live here. Live now.
5) The caring diabetic analyzes last week, last month and last year. Notice I said you don't worry about it, but you do look at, study it and correct for it.
6) The caring diabetic looks for comrades but understands they're an island. I've seen soooo many diabetics succeed doing things that I couldn't or wouldn't do. Listening and learning from them is invaluable, but in the end how I respond to medicine, food and exercise is unique and always gets higher weight than anything anybody else has done. George Sheehan said, "We are all an experiment of one." He said it about running and I'd say it fits just as well for diabetes.
To this point, this shouldn't be taken as a universal post about what a "Caring Diabetic" is. It's only what it is to me. You might think a caring diabetic doesn't drink beer or eat candy, but I've never met a Peanut Butter Cup I didn't like and what's made Milwaukee famous helps me pass the hours. More than anything, I think what makes sense is to figure out what works for you and then make sure you stay on that path as much as possible.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Not My Diabetes
When I was in high school, I was one of 4 diabetics (that I know of). This week, the second one of the other 3 died of diabetic complications.
And yet, even writing that, it sounds absurd. After all, I'm sitting here, more than 25 years into this thing, without a single complication and a nearly non-diabetic blood sugar of 137, 30 minutes after eating a bag of chips.
There's a lot I don't know, but probably the biggest thing I don't know is why this disease is fairly easy for me, compared to so many Type 1 diabetics. On one hand, I could take the credit - say I *care* more than others, or stay up on the technology more than others or say I can count carbs faster and more accurate than others. Those things could be true.
But on the other hand, maybe I'm just lucky. Maybe my body chemistry causes me to process artificial insulin the way the chemists intended. Maybe my fat content is ideal for sticking a thin needle in me and delivering the goods. Maybe running 30-50 miles a week feeds something besides my ego.
Truth is, I don't know.
This month is National Diabetes Month and diabetics all over the Web are slapping logos on their blogs and Twitter accounts so that... well truth is, I'm not sure why they do it, but they do. And there's a piece of me that wants to say, "Really, it's ok. I'm alright. We're all alright. Give your money, your time, your sympathy to the homeless. Or cancer patients. Someone who needs it more than I do, for crying out loud."
But then I think about the fact that 50% of my diabetic classmates are gone and I realize that there are plenty of reasons why it's as good a cause as any, even if it's not because of me. In fact, it might very well be a great cause, despite me.
And yet, even writing that, it sounds absurd. After all, I'm sitting here, more than 25 years into this thing, without a single complication and a nearly non-diabetic blood sugar of 137, 30 minutes after eating a bag of chips.
There's a lot I don't know, but probably the biggest thing I don't know is why this disease is fairly easy for me, compared to so many Type 1 diabetics. On one hand, I could take the credit - say I *care* more than others, or stay up on the technology more than others or say I can count carbs faster and more accurate than others. Those things could be true.
But on the other hand, maybe I'm just lucky. Maybe my body chemistry causes me to process artificial insulin the way the chemists intended. Maybe my fat content is ideal for sticking a thin needle in me and delivering the goods. Maybe running 30-50 miles a week feeds something besides my ego.
Truth is, I don't know.
This month is National Diabetes Month and diabetics all over the Web are slapping logos on their blogs and Twitter accounts so that... well truth is, I'm not sure why they do it, but they do. And there's a piece of me that wants to say, "Really, it's ok. I'm alright. We're all alright. Give your money, your time, your sympathy to the homeless. Or cancer patients. Someone who needs it more than I do, for crying out loud."
But then I think about the fact that 50% of my diabetic classmates are gone and I realize that there are plenty of reasons why it's as good a cause as any, even if it's not because of me. In fact, it might very well be a great cause, despite me.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Moving Forward...
I really don't blog much these days, so hopefully you've been finding some good things to read.
As I hinted a few weeks ago, I've climbed out of my post-marathon-blow-up and yesterday, started training for my 4th marathon, which isn't until the middle of May.
So how does someone go from saying they're done with the marathon to beginning a 26-ish week plan for one? Welll.... a few things happened.
1) I'm stubborn and stupid. If you're a runner, you know that's a big part of it. Don't discount it.
2) I'm not a bad runner. I just ran a particularly crappy race. In the month following the marathon, I had a 5k PR and a near half-marathon PR. Those short races helped me believe that while my marathon hadn't gone well, I'm not that old or fat, yet. This weekend, I'm going after a 5 mile PR, and I frankly like my chances.
3) An offer I couldn't refuse. After my last marathon, Missy Foy reached out to me, and offered help in getting over the Boston hurdle. While I would've jumped at the opportunity if Missy WASN'T diabetic, the fact that she is made it the absolutely, positively, no way I'm going to say no opportunity that it is.
4) Realization that I have plenty of things to try. My last plan had no speed work, cross training or core work. I'm ok giving up if I've done everything I could, but I haven't. Not yet, anyway.
And so here we are. I started with a 7 miler yesterday, including 3 miles fifteen seconds faster than marathon pace. It's a long way and a long winter until May. But I'm ready.
As I hinted a few weeks ago, I've climbed out of my post-marathon-blow-up and yesterday, started training for my 4th marathon, which isn't until the middle of May.
So how does someone go from saying they're done with the marathon to beginning a 26-ish week plan for one? Welll.... a few things happened.
1) I'm stubborn and stupid. If you're a runner, you know that's a big part of it. Don't discount it.
2) I'm not a bad runner. I just ran a particularly crappy race. In the month following the marathon, I had a 5k PR and a near half-marathon PR. Those short races helped me believe that while my marathon hadn't gone well, I'm not that old or fat, yet. This weekend, I'm going after a 5 mile PR, and I frankly like my chances.
3) An offer I couldn't refuse. After my last marathon, Missy Foy reached out to me, and offered help in getting over the Boston hurdle. While I would've jumped at the opportunity if Missy WASN'T diabetic, the fact that she is made it the absolutely, positively, no way I'm going to say no opportunity that it is.
4) Realization that I have plenty of things to try. My last plan had no speed work, cross training or core work. I'm ok giving up if I've done everything I could, but I haven't. Not yet, anyway.
And so here we are. I started with a 7 miler yesterday, including 3 miles fifteen seconds faster than marathon pace. It's a long way and a long winter until May. But I'm ready.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Makings of a Dynasty....
At the end of the day, I'm an age-grouper. Though, I've never read a definition, here's what that means to me:
1) You'll never see my on the "podium" after a race. I'll never take home money and never be in the Top 3 overall.
2) However, depending on who shows up on the starting line, I might sneak into an age-group award. Age group awards are particularly whimsical. I won first place at a local 4 miler in 2008, only to come back and finish 6th a year later. I should add, I actually ran faster the second year. Like I said, whimsical.
That being said, Knoebels Lumber 5k has been my bitch since 2007 when I showed up and said, "Isn't there anybody here my age??" And apparently there wasn't, as I ran a 20:30 the day before a 20 miler.
In 2008, I did the 20 miler the day before and allowed myself to "let it all hang out" on the 5k. But there ain't much to hang after a 20 miler, and I came in 20:11, but also good enough for the second age group award in a row.
This year, I had it all lined up: the marathon was behind me and my job and family actually required working and familying, as they sometimes will, which meant I came to the line tapered, rested and ready.
The result? 19:46! Now those of you who read this blog religiously may recall my 19:25 in the spring, but the fact is: that course wasn't 5k. Heck, it was barely 3 miles. I knew it then and so when people asked me my 5k PR, it was always 19:25, buuuuut....
But this course was true... and I ran it well, a full 1 second under my official 5k PR and good enough for first place - once again - in the 35-39 group.
Equally as cool, I came in 7th out of 172 overall, once again bested by six high school kids... which has also been the story for the past two years.
Truth is, if I could convince the Knoebels people to do this when those whipper-snappers are in school, I could be looking at a REAL podium, not something dictated by my birth certificate.
Hey, a man can dream, right?
1) You'll never see my on the "podium" after a race. I'll never take home money and never be in the Top 3 overall.
2) However, depending on who shows up on the starting line, I might sneak into an age-group award. Age group awards are particularly whimsical. I won first place at a local 4 miler in 2008, only to come back and finish 6th a year later. I should add, I actually ran faster the second year. Like I said, whimsical.
That being said, Knoebels Lumber 5k has been my bitch since 2007 when I showed up and said, "Isn't there anybody here my age??" And apparently there wasn't, as I ran a 20:30 the day before a 20 miler.
In 2008, I did the 20 miler the day before and allowed myself to "let it all hang out" on the 5k. But there ain't much to hang after a 20 miler, and I came in 20:11, but also good enough for the second age group award in a row.
This year, I had it all lined up: the marathon was behind me and my job and family actually required working and familying, as they sometimes will, which meant I came to the line tapered, rested and ready.
The result? 19:46! Now those of you who read this blog religiously may recall my 19:25 in the spring, but the fact is: that course wasn't 5k. Heck, it was barely 3 miles. I knew it then and so when people asked me my 5k PR, it was always 19:25, buuuuut....
But this course was true... and I ran it well, a full 1 second under my official 5k PR and good enough for first place - once again - in the 35-39 group.
Equally as cool, I came in 7th out of 172 overall, once again bested by six high school kids... which has also been the story for the past two years.
Truth is, if I could convince the Knoebels people to do this when those whipper-snappers are in school, I could be looking at a REAL podium, not something dictated by my birth certificate.
Hey, a man can dream, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
