Multisport Mom

Cogans' Heroes

2012-02-06T11:00:00.000-08:00

Most triathletes are familiar with the haunting specter of ALS because of the heroic story of Jon Blais, aka “Blazeman”. We saw him battle to the finish of Kona, watch the following year from a wheel chair, and he was gone before another year had passed. But before he left us, he raised an incredible amount of awareness and money for research to find a cure for his horrid disease. Like Dick and Rick Hoyte did for athletes with disabilities, Jon Blais used his sport to triumph over the tragedy of his circumstances, and inspired many of us to take action.

I believe strongly in that model. Triathlon has such wide appeal and at its base is the human desire to celebrate the sometimes outrageous abilities of the human body and spirit. So it’s only natural that as participants, we draw on the inspiration of those who battle seemingly insurmountable odds to accomplish their goals and at the same time, help others.

As a coach, I have sometimes gotten the opportunity to make that abstract concept so much more concrete through working with my athletes. But the biggest such opportunity came when I got when I got a simple email from a woman in one of my C4 classes last year.

“My name is Helen Cogan,” she wrote. “I’d like you to meet my family.”

And what a family it turned out to be. Helen and her husband had a son, followed by triplets. In 2009, she lost her husband to cancer. Her kids bought her a bike so she could ride out some of her grief. As a team and in his honor, they raised money and rode at the Livestrong charity ride in Pennsylvania in 2010.

When I met them in 2011, one of the triplets, Patrick, had been recently diagnosed with Friedreich’s ataxia. As a big “F-you” to the disease, he had bought a recumbent bike, and wanted me to train him so that he could ride Livestrong later that year with his mother and sister.

Most people have heard of ALS, but very few know its evil cousin, Friedreich’s ataxia or FA. From the Brain Foundation:

"Friedreich's ataxia is a genetic disorder that causes progressive damage to the nervous system resulting in symptoms ranging from muscle weakness and speech problems to heart disease. Ataxia (loss of co-ordination) results from the degeneration of nerve tissue in the spinal cord and of nerves that control muscle movement in the arms and legs.
Friedreich's ataxia is caused by a genetic defect which affects male and female children alike and is passed down as a recessive trait. This means that the disease will develop in offspring only when both mother and father transmit the recessive Friedreich's ataxia gene. A child who receives the defective gene from one parent and a normal gene from the other becomes a carrier and never develops the disease. For this reason, there may be carriers of Friedreich's Ataxia in a family that has no known history of the disorder. When both parents are carriers, the chances of a child inheriting Friedreich's ataxia are one in four.
Symptoms usually begin between the ages of 5 and 15 but can appear as early as 18 months or as late as 30 years of age. The first symptom is usually difficulty in walking. The ataxia gradually worsens and slowly spreads to the arms and then the trunk. Foot deformities such as clubfoot, flexion (involuntary bending) of the toes, hammer toes, or foot inversion (turning in) may be early signs. Rapid, rhythmic, involuntary movements of the eyeball are common.
Many people with Friedreich's ataxia develop:
• scoliosis (a curving of the spine to one side), which, if severe, may impair breathing
• heart disease, such as cardiomyopathy
• shortness of breath
• diabetes mellitus
• dysarthria (weakness of the muscles required for speech resulting in abnormal, difficult to understand speech)
• auditory neuropathy (‘neural deafness’ which causes some difficulty in distinguishing certain sounds and/or signals from background noise)
Friedreich's ataxia usually results, within eight to ten years following the onset of symptoms, in an inability to walk. Occasionally, the disease goes into spontaneous remission, which sometimes lasts five to ten years or longer. Remissions, however, are uncommon."

By the time I met Patrick, he was using crutches to walk and could no longer balance and ride a 2-wheeler. We started training together with his recumbent, which was big, clunky, and heavy. His unwavering persistence got him to and throughthe shortest of the Livestrong courses, but we knew that if he was going to achieve the other goals on his list – a century ride, a triathlon, and the 50-miler of Livestrong (which is ridiculously hilly) – he was going to need a better ride.

So he wrote a grant, and was awarded Bumblebee, his bright yellow racing recumbent. At the same time, he started working with my friend Sara Thatcher to get the physical therapy he needed to maintain and even improve his motor-neuron functioning as long as he could. These two developments, combined with his mom’s and his sister Rosemary’s commitment, meant we could move forward with Patrick’s big dream...to ride 100 miles to raise money for the Friedrich’s Ataxia Research Association (FARA).

So THAT, my friends, is just what we are going to do.

I’m asking every single person who has read this far to click this link and donate $5. Of course you can give more, but at least click the link and give what you can. Like the page, and support Patrick and his family.

http://fundly.com/cogansheroescenturyridetofightfreidrichsataxia#.Ty5eBsWJAvA.facebook
I know I ask a lot of my friends and colleagues. But if reading all the details above didn’t inspire you to ask yourself what you could do to help, then I offer you this, and maybe you'll know why I ask so much of you all.

Imagine you could never run another step.

Imagine that you had to watch your child slowly become confined to a wheelchair.

Imagine that you knew your brother had a fraction of the time that you did to accomplish his bucket list.

Now think of all the money you spend on running shoes, gu, race entry fees, bikes, swimsuits, helmets, training books, coffee, powertaps, coaching, and all the other “essentials” you need to race the best you can. Think of all the time you pour into training, recovering from training, and thinking about your next workout.
What if just a little bit of that time and money was spent on someone other than yourself? What if you could take a little piece of “racing better” and give it to someone trying to “race at all?”

Patrick’s cause isn’t the only one I fundraise for…most of you know I will be racing Ironman Mont-Treblant to raise money for the American Foundation on Suicide Prevention in honor of my brother. If I could have helped him while he was alive, like Rosemary and Helen can help Patrick, it would have meant everything to me.

In fact, I keep a little poem tucked in my pocket while I train and race, and soon it will be tattooed on my arm. It reads,

“You are not gone, you did not die,
Through me you live, through you I strive.”

Our lives are all so much more if we live them through each other, and strive with the backdrop of inspirations like Jon Blais, the Hoytes, Patrick, and for me, my brother, Steven. There is no limit to what we can achieve.

We will be biking Cogan’s Heroes Century Ride to Fight Friedrich’s Ataxia on June 30, 2012. If you want to be at the finish line, ride all or part of it with us, or simply write Patrick a message of support, then just leave a comment on our Facebook page.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Cogans-Heroes-Century-Ride-to-Fight-Friedrichs-Ataxia/292124144181708
Your support makes all of us stronger. And who knows, maybe next time you race and you are digging deep for that little something that will help you keep going, or go a little faster, you’ll find us there, just waiting to pick you up in return.

a

Potential

2012-01-29T14:51:00.000-08:00

Before I decided I was going to commit to IMMT, I told myself I had to be able to look in the mirror and honestly say three things to myself:

a) I would be ok having training be last on my list of major priorities (kids, husband, other family and friends, work, TriROK, home and pets)

b) I would accept what my body could do and ask no more than that

c) I could live with the performance outcome of a) and b).

It took many months of standing in front of the mirror and finding myself lying, before I could finally come round...before I could finally say all three and know they were the truth. And that's when I signed up.

I realized that if I wanted to do another Ironman, I was just going to have to accept the discomfort that was going to come with it. If I did it for the right reasons - because I desperately wanted to and truly missed it - then it would make the accompanying realities worth their imperfections.

Because the real truth is that while I love Ironman, I also fear it. It makes me get out of bed in the morning at 4am, when no marathon, 5k, century ride, 70.3, or swim meet could. The worst that happens in those other races? I'm a little slower than I could be. That's not enough to drive me, and I quickly let life's other responsibilities take over and pretty soon I'm only working out 5 hours a week, getting stressed out and unhealthy.

Instead, because I fear it, when I train for Ironman I do the base work to respect the distance. The nature and duration of that work is enough to wring out my body and mind from everything else going on in life, and allow a natural kind of peace to settle in...and if I don't do more than that, then it also keeps my body healthy and strong too.

Training does need to be last for me because the fact is that of all my priorities, it really is the optional one. I COULD just workout to be healthy and not race at all. There is no real obligation involved whatsoever, and I get plenty of joy and happiness from other aspects of my life, so I can't pretend I HAVE to do this for any reason other than I want to.

But because I'm motivated, I find ways to fit in more than I would if I were just training for something I didn't really care about as much. So I am in great shape right now. My body feels good and strong and fairly lean. And I manage to struggle out of bed, and out the door at night, or sometimes at my lunch break, and get in my 12-13 hours a week, and still be able to be there when my kids get of the bus, still get the bills paid, still put dinner on the table.

However, 12-13 hours does not get you in Ironman shape...so I am not in good Ironman shape. It's January 30th...I shouldn't be. And on the swim and the bike it's clear I will have no problem getting there, albeit with reduced hours. But it's equally clear that I will never be able to run more than 15 miles on pavement again in my life, and only marginally more than that on a treadmill. Which means getting in Ironman run shape...well its just not gonna happen.

Which brings us to the reason that I could finally sign up for IMMT.

Performance comes from two sources: innate physiology and training. That's why some folks can train their butts off and still suck, while others can barely train and be fast. I'm in the middle...I have just enough physiological potential that I can train my ass off and be a top 20% age grouper, or I can barely train and still make it into the middle of the pack.

The real problem for me, is that although I'm competitive in the moment, I really don't care about performance that much. I care about POTENTIAL. I can win my age group and be disappointed. Or I can have a terrible time (see IMWI) and be prouder than I ever have been because I squeezed ever ounce of potential from my broken down, pain-wracked body.

Ummm...sorry. Got in the moment a little too much there!

Anyway, it's taken me a long time, but I've finally come to the place where I can train, race, and authentically coach from an understanding of what potential really is. See I used to think that potential was simply the maximum that you could possibly achieve in any given arena. In reality, our true potential combines all these things we need to do as well as we can and brings as many of them up to snuff as we can.

To make my point clear, I charted it:

Assume 30 = absolute potential. Scenario C, I reach my potential as an athlete, but don't come close to my potential ANYWHERE else in my life. Um, I like my husband, kids, and friends a bit more than that.

Scenario B, I reach my potential as a mother, but same dice...I suck everywhere else, and my kids grow up thinking I'm a loser because I'm so bad a taking care of the dog and I can't fix the computer for them, or build their new desk because I'm so unidimensional.

Scenario A...I'm pretty good at everything important to me, and while I don't reach my potential in any one thing, including IMMT, I die a well-rounded individual who leaves the world with at least a few people giving a crap about that fact.

So for the 13-14 hours it takes me to putter along to the finish, I won't be aiming for a time, but an act...one that makes me a step closer to my total potential as a human being, as opposed to an athlete. The culmination of that act will be earning at least $100 dollars for each mile I complete, all to be donated in my brother Steven's memory to American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

Because as much as I fear Ironman, I love it for a deeper reason. Every stroke, every turn of the pedal, every footfall is a celebration of life and the joy of movement. It's a joy I cherish even more because I do it for my brother, who can't do anymore.

So when I struggle with the realities of where training falls in my life, and what my performance is and will never be, I remind myself of these things. And I remember that if I ever DO reach my potential as a human being, it will be because my brother never reached his, but instead gave me the strength and determination to do it for him.

That strength and determination will conquer any fear I have, and make every Ironman I finish a true victory.

a

Swim at Last

2012-01-02T16:54:00.000-08:00

I'm about to admit a very uncoach-y reality. But then, you are used to that.

I had given up on swimming.

Not the act itself, the the act of getting faster while doing it. For two years, I swam 12,000+ yards a week and didn't get much faster. Technique, speed, threshold, alternate strokes, swim meets, video analysis, you name it, I did it. I finally decided that for the time I invested not getting faster at swimming, I could just bike more, get faster at that, and be done with it.

So for the last two years, I've gotten in the pool about once every month or two, just to make sure I could cover the distance, whatever that was. And while I did get slower, I didn't get MUCH slower, so the tradeoff seemed worth it. As every triathlete worth his or her salt knows, the swim is about 10% of Ironman in terms of time, and with a wetsuit on, it's about 1% of the effort.

Then I had ankle surgery. And coming back from that, I've realized that my run has met with a certain ceiling of volume and speed that it simply cannot exceed if I am to remain ambulatory. So the bike and the swim have become emminently more important.

Well, ok, the bike is really not much more important than it was before. It just gets more attention now.

I know what to do to make my bike leg stronger. So I'm doing it. I also knew what to do if I wanted to swim faster. But I couldn't do it alone.

So I called up Craig Lewin of Endurance Swimming. I knew that he'd be my last ditch effort to find some speed in the water.

For better or worse, I'd been stumping coaches for years. You look pretty good, they'd say, I don't know why you're so slow. Or they find the technique flaw (my sweeping catch and pull), but all the drills in the world wouldn't fix it.

So honestly, I wasn't all that hopeful.

But he made an observation that changed everything...it wasn't my catch and pull that were the root of my problem, it was my RECOVERY.

Wha????

It got fixed (with a TON of patient drill work), the sweep disappeared, and after three months of being back in the pool I've dropped 27 seconds off of my 200, and over 2 minutes from my 1600, setting PR's for distances across the board. And I'm swimming 2-3 times per week, 1800-3800 yards per workouts.

For those of you keeping track, all that translates to a 5 minute savings at 2.4 miles. Best of all, with the new technique, I can nail my lats all day long and not be cardiovascularly taxed...which means I can swim closer to threshold at Ironman and not impact my bike and run.

And it's January 2nd!

I'm excited to see what I can continue to accomplish before August. I would like to swim a 1:05 at IMMT...we'll see if I can pull it off. I won't compromise my bike and run for a couple of minutes on the swim so it will have to come naturally, but I'm optimistic. With the giant improvements I've seen in my strength-to-weight ratio on the bike this fall, I'm getting pretty excited for IMMT.

a

Constructive Structural Criticism

2011-12-27T15:41:00.000-08:00

I have come to the realization that one of my most gigantonormous shortcomings is that I don’t take criticism well. I’m sure that is shocking to most of you. Or not.

And since I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions, don’t hold your breath for that to change.

But since I am a ruminator, I have been considering what to do about the situation. Because, the thing is, unlike a lot of my shortcomings I don’t seem to be all that enthusiastic about tackling this one. Probably because – like most defensive people – I don’t think I deserve the criticism in the first place. Even if I know it’s true.

Comprende’?

No…I don’t totally either.

Anyway, here’s a sampling of what I have been criticized for over the last two weeks and my automatic mental response (note that they all involve my poor communication skills…you know that old saying that if there’s more than five people saying the same thing to you, it’s likely not them, it’s you):

1. Not picking up the phone enough to call friends (deserved I guess but I don’t LIKE to talk on the phone)

2. Giving someone the cold shoulder at a coffee shop (um…I didn’t see you, so undeserved…and seriously??? I was there because I hadn’t had my caffeine yet…so how can I see anyone? Sheesh.)

3. Not returning emails/voicemails fast enough or at all (this is true to some extent, but a) some people seem inclined to email me/call me to tell me their thoughts randomly as they occur or to “check-in” and I’m not sure what response is being solicited, b) I don’t consider chain or “informational” emails to be reciprocal communication unless the reciprocation you want is me electronically reaming you for wasting my time just so you won’t be cursed/feel guilty, c) I have the world’s oldest computer and it takes me at least two minutes per reply just to open and send an email, d) see #1 above, e) once the email gets pushed off the front page I think we can all just agree it’s a lost cause)

4. Not communicating my feelings enough (sigh…)

5. Not answering my phone (I’m a freaking introvert, OK??? Jesus…)

6. Caring too much what other people think of me (OK Pete. You got me there.)

Speaking of Pete, it occurs to me that he NEVER gets criticized by his friends, family, or anyone really except me. WTF? This is not because he is perfect. TRUST ME. He never picks up the phone or returns a phone call unless a mountain bike ride, work, or tickets to a sporting event are involved. He doesn’t even PRETEND to care what you think about him. You should see his inbox…it’s where emails go to die. He talks to his best friends once per quarter. He regularly is rude to people and gets positive reinforcement for it from people who find him “genuine.” If you DID criticize him, he likely wouldn’t even notice.

So I make up for the fact that no one else does, and criticize him nearly CONSTANTLY. Oh, and I nag him too.

I love my husband. At least partially because of everything I just said. So I asked him why he thought – just like the car comment I got at the grocery store – I seem to invite folks to share with me their perceptions of my shortcomings, especially social ones.

I should have known better.

First he said it’s because I’m ridiculously bitchy and opinionated, so unlike him I deserve it.

Then I snorted derisively, and he began to take my question seriously because he could tell it was really bothering me.

So after some thought, he decided that he thinks it’s because I’m too nice to people initially, leading them to believe I care when I really don’t. Just be rude - ahem, authentic - to people, along with their criticisms, and the ones that can’t accept you the way you are will just go away eventually.

But that’s the rub. I DO really care. I love my friends and family. I’m just not good at communicating that caring outside of crises. And that bothers some really important people to me, when that is the last thing from my intention.

I can’t think my way out of a paper bag most days, and I need to spend my limited brain cells on meeting my work and family obligations, so I don’t get much better at things I’m bad at. You know…old dogs, new tricks and such. And worse, most folks likely mistaken my genuine affection for an extroverted character, which I do not possess and never will. I could say I’ll get better at calling and emailing and texting and visiting…but I know I really won’t, and I'd rather make you mad than lie to you. Which leads to criticism…kind of deserved, but kind of not.

There was a great article in the Globe the other day on the nature of willpower. (Yes, that’s right. I read the Globe instead of calling all those mad people back.) Anyway, it discussed how willpower is like a muscle, so you can build it, but you can also exhaust it. That’s how socializing is for me. I love my friends and family. And I love to be with them. And I’m pretty good at being good to them when I AM with them. But when I’m not with them…I’m not so good at socializing with them via remote means.

Honest to God, I seriously hope that my friends understand that if they need me they can reach out to me at ANY time and I will be here for them. They just need to tell me. And it means a lot to me to try to be a contributing member of my community, even if I don’t totally get everything right and occasionally REALLY step in it.

But the bottom line is that I’m an introvert. I’m a friendly introvert, who really likes most people, but I’m an introvert nonetheless. Talking is exhausting for me, even though it is also incredibly rewarding on many levels (kind of like parenting!). But often I’m just too worn out to go there.

So I understand the criticism…it’s deserved on some levels. But I also feel like I have the right to be loved unconditionally for who I am, just as I love my friends and family unconditionally for who they are. I don't get mad at my friends for wanting to talk on the phone instead of working out for 2 hours. And just because I’m not talking to them on the phone every night doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of them…I’m probably dwelling more on their problems than THEY do.

And I’ll call them just as soon as I come up with a bullet-proof solution.

Anyway, just writing this is ironic, because as another complaint was lodged recently, it came with the associated comment that while “you can’t be bothered to return a phone call, you seem to find the time to write a blog.”

Ok…I guess that one was deserved. So I love her anyway. And I'm still not calling her back.

a

Standing Up...And Upping Standing

2011-12-09T11:53:00.000-08:00

My Car

Her Car

A couple of weeks ago I had an experience with a woman I know that I immediately posted about on Facebook. The incident involved her basically telling me that I should be embarrassed by the make and model of my car since she knew I could afford a better one (???). I know what you’re thinking – as an environmentalist I SHOULD be embarrassed by my car. It’s a giant Saturn Outlook that seats 7, plus 1 dog, and several bikes. It’s also a very ugly brown. However, it DOES have the best mph in its class (27-28 highway and 23 city), can get up my driveway in winter, hauls kids, dogs, bikes, and boats, and takes the associated beating fairly well. Moreover, it only has 70 thousand miles on it, so regardless of its shortcomings, it’s going to be my car for at least the next few years.

Anyway, she wasn’t interested in the sustainability of my vehicle, only in the status (or lack thereof) that it conveyed (she gestured to her giant white Lexus? Cadillac? SUV as an example of a more appropriate choice). I think she meant to flatter me in acknowledging that she believed my social standing above that of my car, however, I was neither flattered nor amused. I left at a loss for words and promptly thought of about 400 witty, scathing comebacks that I vowed to post, with her name, on my blog.

Then life got in the way, and I got to thinking (funny how reflection over time often changes my course of action ;).

Morgan has struggled a lot with some mean kids at school, and she’s watched some friends deal with much worse. As a result, she’s starting to understand that there is a pecking order, and that she – like each of her peers - has some place within that order.

My job revolves around a sport in which adults are trying to find their place in a pecking order too. Many if not most athletes care deeply about what their competitors think about them and their capabilities. A lot of people come to sport as adults to precisely because they like the clear nature of competing, ranking, and quantifiable improvement in standing, clarity that is much harder to get as a parent, a spouse, an employee, etc.

I guess the bottom line as painful as the truth may be sometimes, we all want to know where we stand in relationship to our community. And if we perceive that standing not to be good enough, we can get downright obsessed with improving it.
Even if that means bullying someone weaker or less socially sophisticated to prove yourself to the popular kids. Or overtraining to try to quality for Kona. Or undercutting a co-worker. Or spending $70,000 more than you need to on a CAR.

A FREAKING CAR!!! When children are starving...oy.

Anyway, I’m as guilty as anyone. I don’t give much of a crap about popularity, athletic success (let’s face it…I mostly compete to release the pent up emotions that come from women in parking lots criticizing my vehicular choices), or financial status. But the first time I got a grade lower than an “A” (I remember it clearly…a “B-“ in Calculus 1 with Professor Rajapa Asthagiri), I went in the bathroom and threw up.

I wasn’t puking because I was devastated by the thought of not understanding the intricacies of integrals. I was puking because I COULD NOT BELIEVE that there were people in that class who had gotten “A”s…making them – potentially – smarter than me. I’d like to think that I’ve gotten beyond that – graduating from a college where I was clearly in the bottom 50% of student IQ definitely helped – but I’m still intellectually competitive to a fault.

I think Morgan is getting it all sorted out pretty well at school, and she’s helping some friends do the same along the way, and they are helping her. It’s my job to help athletes sort it out and be happy and proud of being the best athlete THEY can be, regardless of who else races against them. And from a human standpoint, I guess both help me to see how very sad it is when someone doesn’t get it figured out, and hinges their self-worth on things so meaningless as a cars, or clothes, or neighborhoods.

So I won’t call her out publicly. Privately was another matter…as a result I don’t think I’m going to get an invitation to join the country club this year.

I don’t think I’ll be puking the bathroom over that one….

;)

a

Wrinkled paper.

2011-11-11T16:44:00.000-08:00

There is a bullying exercise I think is very effective. Have your child crumple up a nice new piece of paper. Then have them try to smooth it out. Ask them to tell it they are sorry for crumpling it up. Did it return to it's original state because they apologized? Could they smooth ALL the wrinkles out so it looked like new? Bullying is like that...once you do it, you can't change the hurt in someone.

Abuse is like that too...once a child is hurt, you can't change them back.

I’ve never made any bones that this blog is as much about mothering as it is about “multisporting”. As that’s the case, I’m about to delve into some REALLY controversial territory here. But progress never gets made without dialogue. And progress really needs to happen.

In the past week, two really difficult moments entered my reality and stirred up a lot of crap for me. One was seeing this video:
http://youtu.be/Wl9y3SIPt7o

The second was a young woman I know coming to me and asking me how should could help her little 5 year old nephew, who was being abused and neglected by his drug-addicted mother. Apparently no one in her family felt that there was anything they could do about it, because he was “her son” and “she would get in trouble.” This young woman described a horrific situation to me, but then ended it with, “But maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s not that bad. No one else seems to think it is.”

The latter event brings to mind the “Joe Paterno” rule, newly installed in our public consciousness. If you don’t report a crime to the police, you are guilty of a crime yourself. But while molestation is clearly a crime, when does the “right to parent as you see fit” cross the line into abuse?

I don’t spank my children. However, I certainly lose my temper and yell. I’ve also used my hands to pick them up and carry them to time out or restrain them during an all out temper tantrum (and WOW they have thrown some doozies). I felt doing so kept them safe and was the most logical action at the time, and it was done as gently as I could. But once in a fit of temper I have swatted both of them ONE time on the butt as they ran up the stairs. It was done out of frustration and was a moment (of many) that I felt demonstrated poor parenting skills on my part.

Instead of corporal punishment and authoritarian parenting, I try to follow the “authoritative” model of parenting – expecting my kids to meet pretty high standards of behavior and performance, showing them love and affecting regardless, talking to them about our morals and values, and trying to discipline them consistently and rationally. I’ve used methods ranging from time-out chairs (worked for Sam…not so much for Morgan), going to their room (as they got older), no TV (worked in that they hardly watch any TV anymore! hee, hee), and losing other privileges (playdates, activities, parties, etc.). I’ve actually found the most effective thing is to be proactive, so now they have to earn things with good behavior, rather than assuming they have them and losing them for bad behavior. But it is, and has always been, a struggle.

Parenting is hard work. No surprise there.

But anyone who knows me knows that while my kids and I are VERY far from perfect, and I love them VERY much, I am tough on them and expect a lot. In return, given time, they usually meet or exceed those expectations. And when I mess up they forgive me, and when they mess up they are still treated with love and respect (although sometimes also with yelling…see the “me messing up part.”)

I know a (very) few parents who are able to rotate gentle, unemotional spanking in to their disciplinary toolbox, and still parent their children in an authoritative, respectful manner. And since I know just how hard parenting can be, and how different each child and family can be, I reserve judgement on their choice. I think they are loving parents and their children feel the same. Their kids feel safe and nurtured, not threatened. And in one case, I honestly wouldn’t have a suggestion for an alternative, given the behavior of the child when he was 3-5 (now he’s 10 and an incredible kid).

I think cases like those are what confuse the line between spanking and abuse though. If it’s ok for my friend to spank her 3 year old for punching and biting his playmates (she calmly and immediately did it on three consecutive occasions and then he stopped doing it…hmmmm), then why can’t that Texas judge hit his daughter with a belt?

Spare the rod, spoil the child, right? God knows, I am NOT a fan of spoiled children.

But the reality is that I have lost a couple of formerly close friends, because they either hit or allow their spouse to hit their children. I have also made two reports to DSS, both of which ended up confirming an abusive situation.

So it’s my firm belief, that the VAST majority of the time, hitting children is wrong and has negative long-term consequences. And I think there is a fairly easily discerned line between when it crosses from a legitimate if controversial discipline method to abuse.

I grew up with two parents who disciplined through corporal punishment. But only one was a (physical) abuser in my eyes. My father spanked me exactly once. It was calm. He was measured. And he was clearly sorry to be doing it. It was a clear consequence for a clear crime (I had smacked my little brother in the face). My butt was not bare and he used only his hand. I was eight years old, and he gave me one spank for each year. Afterwards I snuffled and he gave me a hug, and asked me not to hit my brothers because he hated giving spankings.

I can honestly say that I never hit one of my brothers again. But it wasn’t because of the spanking (my father was around about 20% of my childhood so he COULDN’T spank me most of the time). It was because I didn’t want to make him sad or disappoint him. He could have affected the same outcome with a sit-down conversation. But it also didn’t scar me or cause me long-term psychic pain.

My mother on the other hand…if you looked at her the wrong way you could get anything from the back of her hand across your face to a full-on beating with a belt or a wooden paddle she had cut from a 2x4. Half the time, you weren’t even clear on what you had done. In one instance, my brother (who suffers from global developmental delays) got a 10 minute beating with said paddle because he “refused” to read. I myself got a whipping with a hair brush once for getting the wrong answer on a long division problem (I still can’t do long division. WTF? Thank God for calculators…).

Here’s the deal. If you hit your child with anything more than a hand; if you make them pull down their pants or cower in submission; if you hit them out of anger; if you hit them to gain control or show your power; if you hit them because you lost control…

THEN YOU ARE A CHILD ABUSER.

You need help. You are creating more problems for your child than you are solving. If you don’t recognize this and change, then you don’t deserve to have your child’s love…and you likely won’t in the long term. To say anything else, is simply to make an excuse.

And I won’t excuse you. More importantly, someday your child probably won’t either.

It's time everyone else in this country stopped excusing you as well.

a

Ten days to think...

2011-10-23T17:09:00.000-07:00

Ten days ago, I was ready to lose my shit. I don’t know what it was (actually I do, but I’m used to just being able to deal regardless) but I couldn’t get out of my funk. Just looking at people annoyed me and I honestly just wanted to move to a remote location in Maine.

Commence the pity party, right? I’m so lucky I can’t stand myself. And yet…sometimes you fail to see the good beyond the mildly bad. I’ve been struggling with parenting issues and career issues, family issues and logistical issues. And as much as I want otherwise, I’ve been struggling to live with the slowness and heaviness of my body right now.

I am so excited to race IMMT, but as much as I thought I’d done the prep work to be ok with what I can do in THIS body, I’m finding otherwise. It is so frustrating to watch others be able to put in decent run volume, when I’m trapped at 20-25 miles per week of fairly easy running. Maybe more frustrating is working with clients and training partners who can run the same mileage as me, but run it hard and get faster. I want to be ok with being the last of my friends to cross the finish line, but sadly I am not.

I will not give up.

I tell myself that if 3 hours of strength training aren’t enough, I’ll do more. If I can’t run, then I’ll just put in more quality and quantity on the bike and the swim. If the ankle breaks down, I’ll just do more PT and yoga and get over it. If it all fails, I’ll just learn to be ok with whatever happens on race day.
There is NO reason that I can’t overcome. A lot of other people have overcome a lot more.

Right? Right.

Except maybe they are better or different or smarter than me. Because for the life of me, sometimes I can’t figure out how I can be a decent mom to two high-energy, high-need kids, a wife to a demanding husband, a well-educated, dedicated coach, and a committed, participating citizen all at once. You throw in IM training and I pretty much feel like a loser all around.

We just spent the week in Florida, and a lot of that feeling went away. I ran and swam and did yoga every day. I played with my family and relaxed into the version of myself that doesn’t fixate on logistics and bark orders like a drill sergeant.

But now I’m back. Heavier and as slow as ever.

Look…I can already hear the criticism. I’m not supposed to say this stuff because I’m supposed to be a role model and a coach. I’m not overweight and I’m insensitive to call myself heavy. I regularly place in my age group...I’m not slow. I understand the physiology of why I’m at where I’m at, so I shouldn’t complain.
But you know what? Forget it. Everybody feels this stuff…that’s how pervasive all the pressures in our lives can be when our dreams don’t match up with our reality of the moment. Will I get beyond it? Yes. Should I hide it? Maybe. Is that who I am? No.

I think when we try to deny what we feel, that’s when it all piles up and we fall apart. It’s ok to acknowledge your frustration and fears and sadness, as long as you keep working towards a better place. It’s also ok to talk about it when you want to, and keep it to yourself when you don’t.

My friend Beth just lost her wonderful husband to cancer. She runs. She once told me that she only does it to get the trophies, and I think that IS a big part of why she runs, but that’s not the only reason. I know that because in Tom’s final days, when she couldn’t train for trophies or big races and her speed declined, she still ran. She ran for her head space, she ran for the friends who did it with her, and she ran for Tom, because he couldn’t.

We’re multi-faceted and complicated as athletes and as people. We want to be more than who we are sometimes, even as we want to be accepted and respected as exactly what we are in the moment. Sometimes we can acknowledge that. Sometimes we’re just train wrecks. Sometimes we want more than what we can be. Sometimes we can reach beyond our capabilities and realize our wildest dreams.

The tension of existing between those last two realities can be a lot to bear. But it’s a worthy state to me, even when it takes a toll. The chance to be better than I thought I could is worth the pain of realizing that I’m not able to be the person and athlete I wish much of the time. Because I’ve made the seemingly impossible happen before – rising above a childhood of poverty and abuse to get where I am now -just as often as I’ve fallen on my face. But it’s a real cost, and one that calls for acknowledgement.

I think, in the end, most of us do our best and the chips fall where they may. They fall right often enough to convince us to keep trying, but they fall wrong often enough that we should be reminded that we are lucky just to be alive and well enough to worry about our state.

Which bring me to a beautiful story that I recently read, which sums up this view really nicely, that while we should all aspire to greatness, we must acknowledge that it cannot be the constant state of being for all of us, all the time.

From a piece at http://www.dailykos.com/story/2011/10/12/1025555/-Open-Letter-to-that-53-Guy, from a writer responding to a young man who felt that those in poverty simply needed to toughen up and work harder (something that I sometimes fall prey to myself):

“In the picture, you’re holding up a sheet of paper that says:

I am a former Marine.
I work two jobs.
I don’t have health insurance.
I worked 60-70 hours a week for 8 years to pay my way through college.
I haven’t had 4 consecutive days off in over 4 years.
But I don’t blame Wall Street.
Suck it up you whiners.
I am the 53%.
God bless the USA!...

…First, let me say that I think it’s great that you have such a strong work ethic and I agree with you that you have much to be proud of. You seem like a good, hard-working, strong kid. I admire your dedication and determination. I worked my way through college too, mostly working graveyard shifts at hotels as a “night auditor.” For a time I worked at two hotels at once, but I don’t think I ever worked 60 hours in a week, and certainly not 70. I think I maxed out at 56. And that wasn’t something I could sustain for long, not while going to school. The problem was that I never got much sleep, and sleep deprivation would take its toll. I can’t imagine putting in 70 hours in a week while going to college at the same time. That’s impressive.

I have a nephew in the Marine Corps, so I have some idea of how tough that can be. He almost didn’t make it through basic training, but he stuck it out and insisted on staying even when questions were raised about his medical fitness. He eventually served in Iraq and Afghanistan and has decided to pursue a career in the Marines. We’re all very proud of him. Your picture reminds me of him.

So, if you think being a liberal means that I don’t value hard work or a strong work ethic, you’re wrong. I think everyone appreciates the industry and dedication a person like you displays. I’m sure you’re a great employee, and if you have entrepreneurial ambitions, I’m sure these qualities will serve you there too. I’ll wish you the best of luck, even though a guy like you will probably need luck less than most.

I understand your pride in what you’ve accomplished, but I want to ask you something.
Do you really want the bar set this high? Do you really want to live in a society where just getting by requires a person to hold down two jobs and work 60 to 70 hours a week? Is that your idea of the American Dream?

Do you really want to spend the rest of your life working two jobs and 60 to 70 hours a week? Do you think you can? Because, let me tell you, kid, that’s not going to be as easy when you’re 50 as it was when you were 20.

And what happens if you get sick? You say you don’t have health insurance, but since you’re a veteran I assume you have some government-provided health care through the VA system. I know my father, a Vietnam-era veteran of the Air Force, still gets most of his medical needs met through the VA, but I don’t know what your situation is. But even if you have access to health care, it doesn’t mean disease or injury might not interfere with your ability to put in those 60- to 70-hour work weeks.

Do you plan to get married, have kids? Do you think your wife is going to be happy with you working those long hours year after year without a vacation? Is it going to be fair to her? Is it going to be fair to your kids? Is it going to be fair to you?

Look, you’re a tough kid. And you have a right to be proud of that. But not everybody is as tough as you, or as strong, or as young. Does pride in what you’ve accomplish mean that you have contempt for anybody who can’t keep up with you? Does it mean that the single mother who can’t work on her feet longer than 50 hours a week doesn’t deserve a good life? Does it mean the older man who struggles with modern technology and can’t seem to keep up with the pace set by younger workers should just go throw himself off a cliff?

And, believe it or not, there are people out there even tougher than you. Why don’t we let them set the bar, instead of you? Are you ready to work 80 hours a week? 100hours? Can you hold down four jobs? Can you do it when you’re 40? When you’re 50? When you’re 60? Can you do it with arthritis? Can you do it with one arm? Can you do it when you’re being treated for prostate cancer?”
Great questions. What are the limits to what we can do? And what are the prices that we pay for stretching those limits?

a

MAC n cheese

2011-09-25T16:43:00.001-07:00

Lobsterman Race Report: More flats than tubes. First DNF. Got to watch clients and friends rock the house for me, particularly Pete Buletza (5th overall on the bike dude? Really? Wowza...) and Ken White (3rd place AG).

I waited to post till I had a better race report than a DNF, which is really not a race report but a failed-to-race report.

So what've I got? The MAC Kids Tri Report.

I read a friend's post today about beating the competition. And that's what most of us try to do...beat our last time, beat our training partners, beat everyone else in the race. That's sure as hell why I've always raced.

And my son is the same. He doesn't want to do something unless he thinks he has a good chance at being the best at it. He won his age group today at the MAC Tri, but he didn't want to go in the first place because he thought he "might not win because he was tired."

Really.

Well, he had to go because we wanted to support it and I paid the stupid race fee when he said he DID want to do it last spring. So he went, and he won, and he would have run you over and not looked back if you got in his way.

I relate to Sam. I get him and his anxieties and his shakey confidence and his desire to impress.

I do not understand my daughter most of the time. But I know an amazing phenomenon when I see it...and she is one.

Last week I needed to meet with a client after school one day so we went to the track. While we were waiting, Morgan asked me to time her in a mile. Sam sat in the bleachers and played with my iphone.

When she was 7 I had timed her on that same track, with the same goofy grin on her face, and she ran a sub-eight minute 1600 meters (7:58). But she was gassed at the end and it scared me how hard she could push, so we never did THAT again.

So this time I told her ok, but only if she ran nice and comfy. So we ran together. I couldn't breathe, but she was relaxed and poised and natural. We crossed the line in 6:52.

She's eight.

But if you ask Morgan (like a friend did today) if she's ever won a race, she'll shrug her shoulders and say, "I don't think so?" (like she said today). She has...but she has no idea she has because she values it so little. She's placed far out of the standings in most, and she doesn't remember those either.

She really wanted to race today...because she thinks its fun. She didn't remember there was a race until I reminded her this morning. She squealed with delight because she'd get to hang out with her friends and go for a run (the swim and the bike I think are only an appetizer for her).

She was going along well until she came upon a friend on the run who was suffering with a cramp. So she held her hand and helped her to the finish. As a result, instead of winning or coming in 2nd place, she took 3rd in her age group.

As of tonight, when I asked her how she had done in her race, she still couldn't remember what place she'd come in, who had beaten her, or who she'd beaten, or what her time was. She did, however, note that today was the best race ever, because she'd gotten to help and run with her friend.

When after the race, one of her friends noted that she'd ruined her chances to win, Morgan shrugged. "Why would I care if I won or not? It's about having fun, not about winning."

Hey...we all say that shit all the time. But we don't often mean it. The truth was that everyone else in the car was of her friend's mindset.

To have that kind of talent, and the love of a sport that she has, without all the garbage baggage about tying self-worth to a number on a board...well, I think that's just awesome. She sure as hell didn't get it from me.

But I'm hoping to someday get it from her.

a

M&M's for Race Nerves

2011-09-08T09:45:00.001-07:00

I am SO happy to finally be feeling race nerves again! Saturday will be the first time in 18 months that I've been able to race something longer than an hour! Yippee!

Some things never change though. A few of the thoughts visiting me in the last few days:
-I haven't trained well enough for the distance. This is going to suck and I will embarass myself.
-I can't go that fast for that long. This is going to suck and I will embarass myself.
-I can't swim in waves that big/water that cold. This is going to suck and I will embarass myself.
-I can't run up hills fast enough. This is going to suck and I will embarass myself.

The difference these days is that I don't really believe in those fairytales anymore, so I wave my magic "I'm to old and been around this block too many times to believe my own mental bullcrap" wand and just get fun pre-race jitters instead.

It's rather nice!

Melissa Whitten and Maris Ditolla (M&M), TriLife's new coaches, were over yesterday morning to work on some plans for the upcoming year, and we had more than one good laugh about the mistakes - both mental and physical - we've made over our years of racing and training. We all agreed that those mistakes have made us better as athletes....I also happen to think they make us better as coaches too.

Melissa...aka IronRunner...and her lovely fam...

and Maris...aka UltraIronWoman!

They are also very photogenic...which helps drive traffic to our website. ;)

Sorry guys, I couldn't help it!

I've posted about it before, but just for the record, I've had some of the best coaches one could hope for - Janda, Bill, John O., John S., and I've learned most from them when they've admitted their own mistakes and personal foibles, and how they've addressed them. Their athletic abilities were always far secondary to me, even though they were all formidable. I've also worked with some flat out terrible coaches...and I might have learned just as much from them.

Great coaches have an odd mix of characteristics:
-They are passionate about their sport(s).
-They can see the pitfalls of their sport despite that passion.
-They are proficient in their sport.
-They've struggled enough to know what it feels like.
-They are competitive and demanding.
-They care more about helping their clients reach their athletic potential than they do about reaching their own.
-They make mistakes.
-They correct said mistakes and learn from the process (as opposed to making the same mistake over and over).
-They are in demand because athletes respond to their methods.
-They aren't in the business to make money/the business side is secondary to the people side of coaching.
-They are adept scientists and researchers.
-They are human artists.
-They have developed methods that work.
-They are never afraid to question their methods or try something new.
-They can coach a wide range of athletes to their potential.
-They coach every athlete as an individual.
-Their own lives are full.
-They respect the place of sport in a well-rounded life.

That's a formidable list, and one that I'm only starting to dent myself. I have spent a long time looking for partners who had those traits or the ability to develop them with experience, and who also had the personalities, logistical framework, and interests to fit within the philosophy, structure, and culture I've built at TriLife. It's so nice to finally have not one but TWO now to share the ride.

Glad you're on board M&M :)

a

Could it be? A race report??? Yes!!!

2011-08-21T08:13:00.000-07:00

I am so excited that I finally get to write a race report again!

This was the first time I had ever gone into a race situation planning to limit myself by heart rate, and I was afraid it was going to be really frustrating. But given that I make clients do it all the time for lots of very good reasons, it was time for me to take my own medicine.

The plan was to execute the swim and bike at high zone 3 heart rates, and then let the run climb into low zone 4. This would approximate my Olympic distances pacing on a hot humid day with an ocean swim…just like Lobsterman will have. I’ve been away from the game long enough that I knew I needed to get a better handle on exactly what I could realistically do, since my biggest goal for the L-Man is to finish feeling good and strong and ready to begin the real work for next year….in other words, not blow up as I’ve done several times in training!

In order to accomplish this I had picked a little sprint in RI, planning to stay overnight and see my brother who lives down there, but we had some family stuff going on so it didn’t work out that way. Instead I got a 3am wakeup call, and was in the car driving down by 3:30am. Along the way, I definitely questioned whether it was worth doing for what was really just an elaborate training day, but in the end I couldn’t stand to waste the entry fee and I knew it would be a good learning experience.

I’m so glad I did.

I knew I’d still perform relatively well compared to the field on the swim and the bike, even at low heart rates. But I thought I’d be annoyed with all the runners passing me…and I was a little. But after the first two times when I was tempted to go with the girls, instead I carefully listened to their breathing and watched their form and tried to both admire and learn from them as they passed.

Don’t get me wrong…I was still working hard. Running at tempo IS hard for me these days, and I am VERY slow even when pushing hard, since I’m trying to be patient and keeping my run volume under 20 miles per week for a little while longer. But seeing them push themselves to the limit…wow. I both longed to go there myself AND knew at the same time I was really glad I wasn’t! It was also good to eat the humble pie, remember what it’s like to have to stick to your own plan and let everyone else have their glory, and file away the feeling for Ironman.

So anyway, the stats were 6:15ish for the swim with average HR of 152 (1/4 mile ocean and worst start I’ve ever seen…totally disorganized and people diving in way too soon, but nice calm water), nice, fast transitions of about 1 minute for T1 and <1 minute for T2 I think, 9.6 miles in 25:3X (22.6 mph) with average HR of 156 (races with loops are really nice on one hand because it helps with pacing, but really suck too because a) you loop back in with slower riders which is dangerous for both them and you, and b) people skip loops…I KNOW at least a half a dozen people skipped a loop but whatever who knows if it’s intentional or they just get caught up in the moment), and VERY slow run of 3.1 miles in 26.25 (8:28 pace) with average HR of 174 (but at least I had lots of finishing kick ;). So overall finish just under an hour, 2nd AG, unknown overall since they had screwed up the 40+ year-olds wave timing…will see when they get it resolved if they can.

My take away is that I’m just overwhelmed with the feeling of being grateful to participate again among all these powerful athletes. Even better is knowing that I get to do it again…and really race this time…in less than a month!

a

Insufficient? Maybe...or maybe not.

2011-08-18T05:38:00.000-07:00

Let’s get one thing straight…I am not a helicopter parent.

I let my children take appropriate risks, fail or succeed on their own two feet, and learn from their experiences. But I’ve also learned – slowly and painfully over time – that you also have to go with your gut sometimes, even if everyone tells you you’re crazy.

Not so easy when crazy runs in your family, so you think they might just have a point.

Morgan has always been a reader. She started reading when she was four, and was at a 1st grade level before she entered kindergarten. We didn’t push it…she just loved it.

We try to have a really common sense approach to academic achievement with our kids. I was an OCD, over-driven student who got absolutely SCHOOLED by the geniuses I went to college with, and learned the hard way that there is a GIANT difference between being reasonably intelligent and a hard worker, and being brilliant. Peter was a crappy student with an undersized work ethic, all the way up until mid-way through college, when he discovered the subjects he liked. I went to a smarty-pants, private undergraduate university and he went to a huge public university. He took time off; I finished in three years instead of four. We both did well in graduate school, and ironically wound up in pretty much the same place – functionally intelligent, well-skilled professionals who emphasize life balance over ambition but do pretty well for ourselves in fields that we love.

What that taught us was two-fold – a) there is more than one way to wind up making a living doing a job you can stand in a happy life, and b) common sense approaches take a lot of the angst out of parenting as far as education is concerned.

That’s why I didn’t freak out when Morgan started testing below the bar in reading speed, but was still working hard. It wasn’t until she clearly had stopped progressing in the level and length of the books she enjoyed that I started to realize that something was wrong.

Her teacher was great and we worked hard on fluency together. She was game and did a great job and made some strides. But it wasn’t really working. We went to the doctor. Her vision tested normal. I didn’t want to be THAT mother. But I really knew something was wrong. So I asked if she could see a specialist. Being the awesome doctor that he is, her pediatrician referred us to a pediatric ophthalmologist at Children’s.

We couldn’t get in for three months, after the school year had ended, and meanwhile Morgan’s struggles had continued, although her fighting spirit kept her in the game. Her beautiful big, blue eyes had perfect vision, the doctor said, in every way but one.

Often undiagnosed until adulthood, and responsible for many unexplained slow readers, Morgan has a condition known as “coordination insufficiency.” She doesn’t have it as bad as she could, but there is no quick fix. Here’s the Mayo Clinic’s explanation.

“Convergence Insufficiency (CI) is a common binocular (two-eyed) vision disorder in which the eyes do not work at near easily. It is an eye teaming problem in which the eyes have a strong tendency to drift outward when reading or doing close work (exophoria at near). If the eyes do drift out, the person is likely to have double vision.

To prevent double vision, the individual exerts extra effort to make the eyes turn back in (converge). This extra effort can lead to a number of frustrating symptoms which interfere with the ability to read and work comfortably at near.”

Or:

"Convergence insufficiency (CI) is a common binocular vision disorder that is often associated with a variety of symptoms, including eyestrain, headaches, blurred vision, diplopia [double vision], sleepiness, difficulty concentrating, movement of print while reading, and loss of comprehension after short periods of reading or performing close activities." Archives of Ophthalmology. 2008;126(10):1336-1349

“A person who has convergence insufficiency may show and/or complain of the following while doing close work (i.e., reading, computer work, deskwork, playing handheld video games, doing crafts, etc.):
• eyestrain (especially with or after reading)
• headaches
• blurred vision
• double vision
• inability to concentrate
• short attention span
• frequent loss of place
• squinting, rubbing, closing or covering an eye
• sleepiness during the activity
• trouble remembering what was read
• words appear to move, jump, swim or float
• problems with motion sickness and/or vertigo
It is not unusual for a person with convergence insufficiency to cover or close one eye while reading to relieve the blurring or double vision. Symptoms will be worsened by illness, lack of sleep, anxiety, and/or prolonged close work.”

My first reaction was predictable: GUILT. Morgan had complained about headaches throughout the school year. I’ve cursed her in my head a million times for her “flighty” attention span, and was convinced that her constant loss of place in reading was due to a lack of focus. But I’d accepted the initial vision testing results that her sight was 20-20 so she was fine.

The guilt lingered, but I moved on pretty quickly to relief. So there was an explanation. There must now be an answer. We could get this fixed, and Morgan would be on her way back to easy reading street. Glasses, exercises…I sat expectantly waiting for the doc to fill in the blanks.

But it turns out it won’t be that simple. Morgan has already compensated really well. Home exercises aren’t very effective, so vision therapy needs to take place in a professional setting. Even that isn’t guaranteed to help much. Surgery isn’t an option. The real answer is mostly tutoring, visual therapy, and patience. There is a small chance she could grow out of it, but a greater chance that she’ll both struggle and continue to find ways around it.

The bottom line is that my child has a disability.

I started and erased that line about 7 times just now. I can’t even stand to see it there. Ok, I GET it. It's pretty minor. I know that it’s not THAT serious. I know in the scheme of things, this is NOTHING. So many parents have to watch their children go through so much worse.

But every parent has a dream that things will be perfect for their child. That school will come easy, confidence will come naturally, and happiness will flow freely. I love to read and I’d always thought that the pleasure of books would be something Morgan and I could share for a lifetime. Not that it won’t now, but it will be a longer, bumpier road getting there.

And that’s the other part. Life is going to have to restructure for us for awhile. I don’t want to ask her to give up any of the things that she loves, but tutoring and visual therapy are going to have to happen a couple of times a week, and we’re going to have to devote a lot more time to her academic support as a family. I’m so glad this summer because one of sailing and riding and friends, so that her head is cleared and she’s rested. She has a lot of work ahead of her.

But she’s also got Sam and her dad and me and all our love. Most importantly, she is an enthusiastic optimist, a hard worker, and a passionate learner. In the end, that combination's probably a lot more vital to a happy life than perfect vision.

a

My definition of success

2011-07-31T17:47:00.000-07:00

It's been almost three years since I did IMWI, and I'm only now signing up for another Ironman, which I won't do for another year. It didn't take so long because of the injuries or even the surgery, or because I was too busy building TriLife, or because of TriROK.

I just knew I wasn't ready. I knew I'd make the same mistakes again.

The first time around, I made Ironman about everything I wasn't, just to prove I could push beyond my comfort zone. There is value to doing that, but only if you are doing it for the right reasons. I was doing it for the wrong ones...to prove the points to everyone else. As a result, I had to be what I wasn't, to do what I thought I wanted.

I had to make myself thinner.
I had to make myself faster.
I had to make myself harder.
I had to push in the pool.
I had to strain on the bike.
I had to cobble together run volumes that pushed the edge of everything I was physically capable of...until I wasn't capable any longer.

Why? Because I couldn't just finish the distance...I had to prove that I could do it faster than I thought I could, fast enough to make people say, "wow."

I got hurt, I got disappointed, I learned a lot, and the finish was joyous...really and truly it was. It was a true moment of bliss, because forged in the fire of that days torture, I finally had to relent and find my OWN path to the finish. And I was happy with what I found.

So I promised myself that if I ever did Ironman again, it would be about who I WAS, not about who I WASN'T.

Coaching is what has made the difference for me. I have learned so much about the psychology, the physiology, and the social value and cost of the sport in the last five years. My clients, both TriLife and TriROK, have taught me more than I could have ever learned in my insular training world.

It's easy to give lip service to the notion that there is no cookie cutter training approach for everyone, but at the end of the day, most of us fall back into the same old habits and notions that our sport's community and history has fed on for years. More volume is better. Go harder to go faster. I have to go sub-11:30 hours to be respectable. My body fat has to be x%. My LT power has to get to Y wattage for me to go Z time on this course.

But through the slow, exacting process of working with INDIVIDUALS, on THEIR goals, in THEIR races, being part of THEIR failures and success, watching THEIR journeys wander over the sport...that's where it has sunk in for me.

You can only be successful in this sport if YOU define what success is and tell everybody else to go fuck themselves.

For some people there is only one measure of success - Kona. For others, Kona is a yawn...if they don't break 9 hours they are a failure. Hell, for a very few, they've failed if they haven't been on the podium at the Olympics or on the Big Island.

But then there are those people who are authentically and relentlessly overjoyed, just to finish, even if the lights are out and the finish line is broken down.

The key is to have YOUR dream, and have that dream to true to who and what you are. Then define success from there.

It's MY dream to have the sport I love doing serve something larger in the world. Because, as much as I NEED the mental and physical outlet of training and racing, I need to know I'm making a difference even more. The selfish aspects of the sport must be balanced with its power for raising awareness and building community...I need the intellectual and spiritual connection of the two in order to find MY success at Ironman.

Otherwise its just an expensive, physically punishing, and narcissistic exercise of number chasing and ego-building.

I guess, as usual, I want my cake and to have it too :)

And, as usual, I'm going to find a way to get it.

a

2011-07-06T17:36:00.000-07:00

I just made the most awesome concoction...I pitted and sliced up cherries and put them in the food processor with ice chips and ground it up until it was like a slushy. Then I poured sparkling water in and mixed it up.

HEAVENLY.

Especially after a hard run.

These days every run is a hard run for me. Whether it's pushing a bit longer or a bit faster, in this heat and after my hiatus, nothing that involves running is easy right now.

I have a long way to go before I even feel comfortable that I can cover the distance at Lobsterman...I can easily finish the swim (but not quickly), and the bike (fast enough), but the run...oy. Eight miles still feels like a challenge these days. I was used to feeling like 6.2 was a warmup when I did my last Oly races...now not so much. Running hard off the bike is fine for about 2 miles right now...after that it's spit the bit time.

Oh well. I take it as a good sign that my "just grateful to be doing it" attitude is beginning to fray. It's means that pretty soon I'll take everything for granted again and be back to my nasty competitive ways...ways that make me faster.

Hee, hee.

This is what I'll be riding when I tackle Lobsterman:

Thanks to Phil and Nate at Seaside Cycle, Armstrong did get saved, at least for the short term. But he's going to become a trainer bike...put out to pasture for his old age so his frame doesn't fail on me at an inopportune moment (i.e. any on the road).

I'm not thrilled about the paint job on this bike...it's too pretty. It looks...finess-y. It doesn't look intimidating at all.

I want a black bike.

But I want a fast bike more, so pretty it is.

Now for a name...Bloody Mary, perhaps? Nah...I'll trade the saddle for black.

HA!

No, it has to be a boy, pretty or not. I've never been into pretty boys, but I guess if I had to pick one, it would be Fabian Cancellara. He is the swiss time trial machine, afterall.

But I cannot name my bike Fabian. That's just wrong. And Cancellara is...well, a bit much. However, his nickname IS Spartacus...

So it shall be. Welcome, Spartacus.

OK, we'll welcome Spartacus in about a week, anyway.

Of course I'm not buying Spartacus to race Lobersterman on...oh no. I'm buying Spartacus (plus a spare cogset most likely) so I can race this:

Yes...like half the known world, I have signed up for Ironman Mont-Treblant, the new race in Canada. I am SO psyched it is ridiculous. Now I have 13 months to lose 15 pounds (all fat, no muscle of course), regain the ability to swim for an hour, find my lost lactate threshold, and cobble together the wherewithall to stumble through 26.2 miles.

Am I sick that just writing that makes me the happiest woman in the world?

I have three goals for the race that I'll just put right out there -

1. Be fully present EVERY SINGLE MOMENT of the race. This will may very well be my last IM distance race. I want to totally absorb the emotions and the sensations, ebullient and painful.

2. Finish.

3. Have an awesome time with family and friends. Pete and the kids are coming up because it's a SICK resort town, and some of my very best friends are racing - Donna, Maris, Kat - and Janda and Michelle will be there to cheer.

How fantastic is that!

Of course I will also qualify for Kona, but that is a given, so why mention it?

a

Till the bitter, bloody end...

2011-06-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

If you are squeamish...stop reading here.

Ok...if you're squeamish, you probably don't read my blog anymore, because between surgery pictures, race reports with references to "tampon transitions", and graphic portapotty reviews, this is not the place for the faint of heart.

But consider yourself duly warned.

The reason I'm writing this at all is because I didn't want to. I was embarassed. And I have this thing about embarassment where I know if I experience it someone else does too. But unlike me, maybe they don't choose to go ahead and live life/compete despite regular humiliation. So I have to let them know that they aren't alone, and they should just say screw it and at the end of the day have a good laugh instead of wasting another moment on mental self-immolation.

Hell...that's the biggest reason I write these damn ramblings...because in an increasingly isolated world, we all need to know that there are other people falling down, picking themselves back up, and laughing about it afterwards...in other words we are not alone.

Anyway, I had done a workout with Jeremee and a hard bike yesterday. And I'd done a hard run the day before. So today I did an easy run and a swim and then I went to hang with Phil at Seaside Cycle as he helped me figure out why my power on my TT bike is so consistently lower than my roadie.

It's common to be a little underpowered in TT position as you are positioned to optimize run speed off the bike...it's not that I was just losing a bit at Vo2Max. I was consistently riding 15-20 watts lower at threshold heart rates...not cool. Not cool at all.

I could actually time trial faster on my road bike that I could on my TT...never a good sign!

My old bike fit was pre-surgery and I knew a lot about my body had changed. I also knew that my road bike fit was even far from optimized, so I hit the shop with both bikes.

Phil is chill and the fit is wicked detailed so the day was going well...we ID'd HUGE problems with my positioning on Armstrong (my TT bike's name)and were well on the way to correcting when...frame/seat post problems struck. I will not elaborate...I will wait for a final verdict which should come tomorrow. But let's just say Armstrong might not be my training partner much longer.

:(

So we switch over to Scotty (my road bike) and Phil makes some major adjustments. I left with Scotty stem ripped out and handbars hanging pathetically, while Armstrong was crippled in the corner. No bikes!!! Yikes!

Meanwhile, my friends Pete and Scott had been searching for an ECV Team TT partner for days and I'd tried to hook them up with a bunch of people. I'm just not frankly up to the challenge these days, so I didn't want the punishment of trying to hang in at the 27+/- mph that I figured they would pull. I hate not pulling my own weight, and I just can't haul anybody at those speeds. I'd be nothing but a hanger on.

But they kept coming up empty. People had to work. People had coaches forbid it. People had their training partner die the day before (I shit you not). I started to feel bad.

Pete had been training hard and had DNF'd a couple weeks ago after a flat and a wrong turn. He really wanted to do it, and you need three folks to enter.

So since Phil was able to get Scotty back together by late afternoon I agreed to take the third seat on a non-aero road bike if they wanted. My legs were tired and I had no idea how the brand new fit would ride, but I'll be G-d damned if I'll ever let friends down. And I knew if we were smart about tactics I could hang off their wheels for 11.3 miles.

So I show up and we register. I see my friend Al and we chat while I started getting my stuff out of the car. As we're talking I realize something is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

My shorts are all of a sudden VERY wet. And no...I didn't pee myself.

Muther FUCKER.

I excused myself, grabbed a tampon from the car, and prayed the HS was open. It was not.

I started to run around back to the woods when I realized things were BAD. VERY BAD. As in no way I could ride on a white bike seat without a murder scene BAD.

FUCK me.

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that my Aunt Mary has HAUNTED me for years. She stole 17 minutes from me at IMWI. She ruined my first overall tri win when I was too busy sprinting to the restrooms to enjoy my sprint across the finish line.

I am blessed with an anemia-spawning, relentless, pill-proof case of menorrhagia. I believe that's latin for "is it a period or are you bleeding to death?" I have considered some brutal fixes including uterine ablation and just rippin' the whole damn thing out. But so far I've just lived with it.

So live with it tonight, I did. I waved Pete and Scott over and did the deed, telling them that I had to abandon them IMMEDIATELY, and grateful for the fact that they are good friends, married with children. They know how this shit works. I bolted, and they talked the good ECV people into letting them ride as a two-fer.

And they rocked the house I might add. Ever humble, they went sub-27 minutes.

Maybe I'm glad I didn't get to ride.

Who am I fucking kidding. No I'm not!!! That woulda been a sweet pull and no one would have known I didn't do any work!!!

Thank God for my bestie Melissa (Scott's wife) who I could call in an absolute state of HORROR on the way home. She's an awesome antidote for humiliation, and I could even text her the photo of the paper I sat on on the way home and she got that I had to provide evidence and wasn't (openly) grossed out.

I just have this thing...I never want to quit on ANYTHING. EVER. So the fact that I did...I just. Needed. Someone. To. Know.

And now YOU know. So whether you just needed a laugh, or needed to know that another athlete suffers like you do, there you have it.

Let's hope a better day dawns tomorrow...I'll certainly be armed with a box of OB Super-plus Ultra and overnight pads with wings when it does.

And I'll still train on, damn it! So you better too...

a

Why My Job is Great for My Kids

2011-06-24T18:33:00.000-07:00

Growing up I was keenly aware that my mother had no job outside of the house. She was completely financially dependent upon my dad, and frustrated in her own ambitions. I resolved as a young child that no matter what I would have a career, and my children would be better off for it.

Fast forward 20 years, and when the time came to "have it all" I cried uncle. I didn't want to leave my little babies. I didn't want to put our family on a 9-5 schedule. I quit work and stayed home with them. I had the luxery of being able to be home, so I took it.

Funny how much things change. But as they say, they also stay the same.

I quickly became sure of the fact that I was not stay-at-home mother material for long. I hate crafts. I yell. I have zero patience. I constantly yearn for change and mental challenge that doesn't involve counting to three. I remembered back, and decided that I wanted my kids to see a balance. I wanted them to see me working for something outside our family, but that respected our family's needs as well.

Anyway, long story short, I've made the right decision. My work, in the way I have it, is a tremendous boon to my kids. They come with me coaching. They come with me when I give talks to school groups. They fix bikes with me. Sometimes they have to wait while I help a client or talk to a reporter. Sometimes they have to take a backseat when a deadline looms. Sometimes their Dad is the only one at their big game or taking them to a birthday party, because mom needs to work.

Sometimes - like tonight - they have to go out in the rain at dusk, and help mommy mark a race course, so that the families they've met this year - swam with this year, run track with this year, and biked alongside this year - can do their very first triathlon together. They helped me assemble signs, find cowbells, and yes - even agreed to sing the national anthem.

It's not all sunshine and roses. I feel guilty sometimes. All my friends do...sometimes it seems like you just can't win. Stay at home? You're smothering your children. Work outside the house? You are abandoning your kids. But that's all malarky. What matters is including our children in our decisions, talking to them about them, and sitting with the hard questions that they might raise.

When I see Morgan make friends with kids she'd never know otherwise, or see Sam reach out and comfort another boy who (like him) is afraid of failure, I know it's the right thing. They are learning what the right thing IS.

When I see them struggle and be frustrated because they aren't getting the attention they want from me at any given moment, I am actually glad even as I feel a pang of guilt. They may be the center of my universe, but they are not the center of THE universe. It's an imporant thing to learn if one wants to be happy in the long term.

So much in this culture is about self. My work gets to teach my kids about others. How they can help you and how you can help them. They are learning that our family isn't an isolated unit but a part of a community. They are learning that different people have different struggles, and that they have a lot to learn from all those folks. A little perspective can go a long way as a child.

Tonight my little Sammy was sticking flags in the ground to mark the biking course. Morgan was across the field at the pond, listening to the frogs.

"Mommy," he asked, "did you make this race? Did you invent it?"

"Kind of." I was struggling to get the wrapper off the next bundle of flags. "TriROK decided to make it and I helped."

"Is it for the families?" I knew what he meant.

"Yup."

"So that means I'm inventing the race course for them right now?" He stood up from planting his flag and I saw his baby-turning-into-big-boy face was damp and serious and satisfied when I nodded and loved him so much it hurt.

"Cool," he said. "That's so cool."

Yes it is, Sammy. Yes it is.

a

Periodizing Life

2011-05-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

“I keep telling people (and myself) that 'I'll sleep when I'm dead' so I continue to overdo it. It now occurs to me that the overdoing could cause my demise.” -My friend Patrick

I laughed SO hard when I saw Patrick’s Facebook status above. I was feeling a similar way that day. But I also felt an immense amount of empathy as well. I know why Pat’s drive is to get as much into life as he can. He’s been battling an illness for years now, and while his immense dedication to staying fit and strong has kept him in amazing shape, the disease has made him more aware of the raw facts of mortality than most of us can claim.

He’s got a lot he wants to get done. But if he does too much, he just might be robbing himself of more time to do it. A tough line to walk.

The Buddha opined that:

“To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life; foolish people are idle, wise people are diligent.”

Note that there is a difference between diligence and mania.

But death is the ultimate backstop when it comes to sorting the wheat from the chafe in life. Belief in the afterlife is a very personal thing, and if you aren’t 100% sure of what’s coming on the other side, then all you’ve got when you’re gone is what you leave behind. Or as Oscar Wilde said,

“Biography lends to death a new terror.”

In my own case, I don’t believe in a traditional afterlife, where I’m reunited with my loved ones in a conscious way, or get to watch over them from above. Instead, I think that the best one can hope for is that the spirit and example left behind is one that works positively in world through the people you’ve connected with while you were alive. I have often thought that if I received a death sentence tomorrow, I’d just start working even more furiously, if only prepare those who depend on me for my impending departure, and to write down everything I want my children to know about who I am, where they came from, and how much I love and believe in them.

In fact, I wouldn’t have had children if I didn’t simultaneously believe that they are good enough as they are born into this world AND could help make the world a better place. So it follows that I hold it as my parental responsibility to both be real – not some fake martyr or holier-than-thou hypocrite – and be a force for shaping the society I brought them into to be sustainable and supportive.

But as my friend Jen recently noted as we ignored our TV watching children to plan a TriROK event, “We should probably draw the line when our children start doing what we started a foundation to stop in others.”

Well stated.

I’m so incredibly happy with what TriROK and TriLife have accomplished the last several years. I’m so proud of the people my kids are becoming and I honestly feel like a ton of hard work pays off every day. That makes me excited to see what the years ahead hold, and intensely grateful for my life.

However…

I am worn out. Just like I periodize training, I tend to schedule work in bursts around vital events, programs, and seasons. By the time I get to a bout of vacation or off the grid time I’m exhausted. The problem is that my “off” time is not my own. With my husband and kids and all their awesome energy, we don't take quiet, relaxing vacations. In fact I usually come back from vacation needing another vacation.

Years of this, with no real down time just for myself, are really starting to take their toll, and I have to admit it. Like a teacher with 20 days of school left, I’m starting to count down – not to our family vacation this summer – but to the weeks after it, when I’m taking myself off the grid from EVERYBODY. Time for reading, training, writing, yoga, far away friends and family…time for ME.

I’m not exactly wishing the time away – life is too short for that for sure. But I’m ready for a break and to come rejeuvenated for the great work and inspiration that lies ahead. This feeling reminds me of a passage from Le Guin’s novel Always Coming Home, which I recently saw again in UU Times:

“It was a good thing for me to learn a craft with a true maker. It may have been the best thing I have done. Nothing we do is better than the work of handmind. When mind uses itself without the hands it runs the circle and may go too fast; even speech using the voice only may go too fast. The hand that shapes the mind into clay or written words slows though to the gait of things and lets it be subject to accident and time. Purity is on the edge of evil, they say.”

One of the things I will contemplate and bring back from my break is that question of once again finding away to balance the slow and the fast of life, the physical and the mental journeys that yield both inspiration and fatigue. Right now, I’m just too tired to think about it. ;)

a

The high road seems slow this days...

2011-05-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

Hmmm. This is going to be a long slow road for sure.

-18.5 flat miles at 19.8 mph followed by

-1 mile at 8:20

Tired like I just raced a 70.3.

My Oly distance bike pace should be in the neighborhood of 20-21 mph depending on the course, I should be averaging about 8's off the bike for the 10k.

I'll do the math for you...that a shitload of progress to make between now and September!

Oy. I'll get there but it's gonna be a L-O-N-G summer.

Beans, kale and turkey burger post-ride recovery meal because it would help a LOT if I was able to visit the territory of my racing weight again...cayenne pepper makes it kick! Maybe it will jazz me up for my workout tomorrow!

Can't wait for my 1500m time trial so I have the FULL picture of just how much work I gotta do! Still, it feels good just to be doing it, slow or not. Meanwhile I have the B's to distract me...but why do they have to play on this beautiful day!!!

a

Betcha $5...

2011-05-16T16:11:00.000-07:00

I heard today that our country is in a national funk...bad news is getting us down.

Well I'm going to fix that.

Let me tell you about something that will make your day. Inspire you. Give you a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

Over the winter TriROK was contacted by the Principal of Great Oak Elementary School in Danvers, MA. One of our Board members, Nicole Prince, has children there, and the Principal, Matt Fusco, is a triathlete himself. So is the PE Teacher at the school, Shawn Gilmartin. So they looked at our TriAlliances program, and gave us a call.

After meeting, we decided that Great Oak was an IDEAL place to pilot a free triathlon club for 4th and 5th graders. We expected 10 kids and ended up with over 20.

Each week the kids get together for three workouts: a bike or brick, a run, and a swim. We have an awesome network of coaches a volunteers who are overseeing those workouts, together with Coach Gilmartin. Nicole has coordinated getting sponsors, t-shirts, and training spaces for the club. Principal Fusco has supported our work every step of the way.

Some great sponsors have stepped to the plate, including Western Cycle and the Lyden Swim Center in Danvers . Then we asked for donations from the TriROK Facebook Fans, and they have started stepping up to help us get trisuits for the kids if possible.

NO ONE working on this project gets paid. Coach Gilmartin is doing this out of the goodness of his heart. All along the way, folks could have said no...I'm just too busy. Honestly? I almost said that!

But we didn't. And it's tremendous. The kids are great...lots of them are just learning to swim and others are really working hard to string together a few minutes of running. But every coach and volunteer who has worked with them has come away saying the same thing, "These kids are SO awesome. I'm so glad I get to work with them."

So thanks to the parents, who schlep kids to weekday workouts and the Lyden Center on Saturdays in the afternoon. Thanks to the staff at Great Oak who are volunteering their precious time and energy. Thanks to the coaches and volunteers who have come to meetings and staffed workouts. Thanks to our TriROK staff who keep their nose to the grindstone even when the work is thankless and seems neverending.

I can't wait to watch these kids race at the KidsROK Triathlon on July 16th. If YOU want to help, visit www.trirok.org and click on our donate button. I betcha five bucks you can make a difference...

a

Freedom

2011-05-08T17:03:00.000-07:00

You know that saying that you don't know what you've got till it's gone? Well, sometimes you don't know what you're missing till you get a taste of it.

The bike has been my pathway back to some modicum of fitness since surgery. Swimming hurt too much and running was banned until recently. So the trainer it was.

But sitting and spinning while staring at a wall (or Jason Varitek's thighs if I'm in my studio) is hardly the same as biking. Lost in all my angst over when and if I could ever run again was how much I missed the open road. Some of that was trepidation (what would happen to my ankle when I had to climb that first hill big hill?) and some was the fact that I never felt a return to the saddle was in doubt.

When the surgeon gave me clearance to return to training last Tuesday, the first thing I did was run. But the next day, I took a quick and easy 45 minute bike. The run kind of sucked even though I was thrilled to do it. The bike was brilliant.

The third day, I ran again. It sucked again. Friday I got a new pair of shoes, ran the fun-run at Happy as a Clam* with my kids, and felt marginally better (never mind that I was beaten by half the school's five year olds...). But not great.

Saturday morning, I rode with two clients early in the morning in the rain. And I couldn't have been happier. Freedom. It all of a sudden clicked and I remembered why I love the bike (at least sometimes).

This morning, I got to ride with my friend Melissa for a couple of hours as we toured 40 miles of beautiful country roads. Aside from one hill that I almost cried on (I only whimpered - Melissa is my witness), it was ridiculously enjoyable. My legs (and other bits) are tired, but I feel like myself again. It's been so damn long.

On Thursday, two days post-clearance, I rode with a client who has been diagnosed with Freidrich's Ataxia. He's incredibly strong and fit, but the disease is slowly robbing him of his neurological control, so he can no longer risk two-wheeling it. So we took his trike out for a 10 mile jaunt of a bike path adjacent to his house. He was amazing and fast, but what struck me the most was how often he used the word "freedom" to describe his attachment to his new ride.

I get it. I totally get it. Those wheels will help him complete several long charity rides this season, including one to raise money to combat his disease, which has no current cure. Some day it will, partly because of him and his trike.

Meanwhile, a huge resource in helping me and him figure out his new ride and training approach has been the New England Disabled Sports, run by my cousin's husband, Geoff Krill. Kudos to you guys for all that you do to bring freedom to everyone, no matter what their limitations might be. If you're an able-bodied athlete, take a minute to think about your life if disease or accident robbed you of sport. Once you've done that, you can donate here: New England Disabled Sports

a

*If you have never run happy as a clam you are CRAZY!!! It is a fantastic, local 5k in Essex, and benefits the Essex PTO. They have a 1 mile fun run, the 5k, and a catered dinner from The Farm Restaurant. You make back your race fee in food, schwag, and street cred (there are hill...yes, a few hills).

Measuring...

2011-05-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

Osama bin Laden is dead.

I just ran 3 miles 3 months after surgery.

I suppose the universe is just after all.

Don't start with me. I didn't parade in the streets. I didn't rejoice. But I was glad to see him go. I have no problem with how he was killed. I think the world is a better place without him in it.

I also have to admit that I enjoy watching a lot of racists eat their Jim Crow when Obama nailed Osama.

Moving on...

Let's get to the "I ran 3 miles" part.

Pete went in with me to Dr. Theodore's office today. He was impressed with my ankle's progress, strength, and range of motion, but cautioned that I was clearly still atrophied.

"Don't go out and run 20 miles, but you're cleared to return to normal training," he said.

My first thought...does that mean 19 is OK?

Just kidding.

Ok...that's really what I thought, but just for a second.

I figured when I got home I'd clear the work schedule and go for an outdoor ride, given how beautiful it was. But when the moment came, I just. Wanted. To run.

So I did.

3 miles in 28 minutes. I don't care how slow it was...my ankle did not hurt. Not one little bit. And it doesn't hurt now, 10 hours later.

K...I really do are how slow it was. I'm super out of shape. But knowing that I could run with no ramifications far outweighed the realities of my fitness. Really.

Anyway, it was so good for my mind. I've been really frustrated with so many things. I've started to get a taste back of my therapy via training, but it's been very sporadic. I need to make it regular.

In the rear-view mirror, I can admit that I suffered a real bout of depression post-surgery. But you never know how bad it was until you start to emerge, which I have over the last month. It reminded me just how important exercise is to sanity, and I honestly believe that is true of everyone, not just me.

It also reminded me how important it is to feel competent physically, and empowered to move your body as an athlete. Clearly, a lot of my devotion to FamiliesTRI and our little elementary school triathlon programs stems from the fact that I have lacked that feeling in the past, so I know how paralyzing it can be. As we've faced a lot of questions regarding the "results" of the program, particularly FamiliesTRI, I've had to fight a growing sense of defensiveness. Yes - we show "real" results in terms of decreased blood pressures, weights, BMI, and folks who are now able to swim, bike, and run where they weren't 3 months ago.

But it bothers me to reduce it to that, even though that is what is necessary for funders and organizational discussions. Because what is most important about what we do is facilitating the process of self-discovery for a lot folks who've never been given the time, attention, space, or resources to learn just how powerful and capable they really are. What if they don't meet YOUR definition of an athlete, but they meet their own? Should they feel less proud?

I'm a scientist, and I'm used to measuring. I get the value, and we've built it into the program with evaluations and questionnaires. But in the end, some things can't be quantified.

Twenty-three people discover that they are not the sum of only what they thought they were. Several may fall back into old ways over time. But they are athletes now...they know they feel better through movement. How, exactly, do you measure the worth of that?

How do you measure the worth of a single run after three months of wondering if you ever could capture that moment of flying and breathing and thinking all at once again?

a

Wait on THAT

2011-04-02T08:39:00.001-07:00

A house full of birthdays and some big meetings and presentations had me a bit worn down by the end of this week. Coupled with almost 10 weeks without any kind of truly decent workouts and I guess I was ripe for a bit of a meltdown.

And meltdown I did...but in response to a super unkind email I got from an athlete who felt that they had spent far too long on my waiting list. Apparently they feel they are a very GOOD athlete, whose untapped talent haunts the world of triathlon...a situation that MUST be rectified. And it seems to them that I must not be a very good coach, given that my priorities are obviously skewed and I'm not every really an athlete myself anymore because I put so little emphasis on my own training so I clearly don't take their needs seriously. While charities are all very well and good, this person expounded, I should get out of the field of coaching REAL triathletes, since I'm so focused on "getting lazy people fit."

Getting lazy people fit.

As opposed to say, pulling douche bag's heads out of their asses?

Of all the narcissistic crap I've seen (and you see a LOT in this sport because - let's face it - most of us are focusing 15-20 hours per week on OURSELVES during training and can get a little self-involved) this took the cake. Let's be clear - you don't sign some kind of exclusivity contract to be on my waiting list. In fact I have given everyone on it references to other coaches to pursue if they so choose. Some do and end up very happy and I never hear from them again...others wait it out and end up on my roster.

The gist of my response was:

You shouldn't have waited. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because I'm sure when I interviewed you it would have become clear to me what a jerk you were and I would NEVER have taken you on as a client anyway. And no - your Kona qualification does not mean a thing to me. The sad thing is you DO get respect as a human being from other, misguided individuals, simply because you are a very fast swimmer, cyclist, and runner. But you don't deserve it, because you are a waste of self-involved carbon material.

And just for the record, I don't help lazy people, just like I don't coach assholes. TriROK works with talented, intelligent, self-aware individuals who have focused on non-athletic pursuits for a variety of reasons no less valid than your decision to spend 20 hours a week training when you could be developing your BRAIN or your EMPATHY. However, unlike you, they've decided to undertake some self-improvement. They've decided to get active and healthy as an inspiration to their own families and others.

It wasn't the most professional thing I could have done, but I'm tired of quietly absorbing people's ridiculousness. I suck in a lot of ways, and yes, I judge other people hypocritically, but I mean REALLY...this just took the cake in so many ways. I love triathlon, but I find that it's become a harbor for some of the more repugnant and common personality traits of our culture. There is too much ego, too much money, and too much self-indulgence.

It's too bad because the bare bones of this sport make it one of the most accessible and least intimidating, which in turn makes it ideal for adult-onset athletes and kids who want to get fit. And I for one, am proud to help keep it grounded in those grassroots, even if it means keeping a bit of a waiting list.

So there.

a

One Great Dad...

2011-03-19T12:46:00.000-07:00

I've always had a strict policy of not discussing my marriage on this blog, at least not in detail. So I rarely speak about Pete in any depth. But I'm breaking my silence.

Fortunately for Pete, its because I just have to sing his praises for a moment.

Not only would the guy never even dream of raising his hand to one of his children, but he rarely even raises his voice. Except of course when he's playing Godzilla in a rousing game of tickle monster. Yesterday, both kids were home sick from school. Since Morgan had stayed home on Thursday as well, I was way behind at work. So Pete took the day off and amused them non-stop.

They watched zero TV all day, and save for a long walk I took with Morgan and Obie, he had the kiddos by himself all day long. Other than the house being wrecked, there was no discontent to be found.

I am so grateful that he's in the life stage where he's got his priorities straight...now granted I sometimes wish he was a little LESS of a pushover with the kids, but hey...I'll take it. Mostly I'm just pissed because he makes me look bad (can we say good cop/bad cop???). Seriously though, I hope someday our kids realize just how great their father really is...I know they'll never doubt how much he loves them.

a

The Questions That Beg...

2011-03-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

Every year on this blog, I write a post for my brother Steven, who died at the age of 13 when he committed suicide. I've tried to get away from doing it on his birthday or the anniversary of his death, mostly because I want keep his memory flowing through mundane everydays as well. I also find that my struggles with his life and death come up least of all on those days and mostly when I don't expect them, so I should write about him that way as well.

I always remember his face, just adjusting to the first of adolescence, and carefully lit in his 8th grade school picture. The one I keep on my bedroom wall.

This one.

It bothers me that I remember him as a picture first, so I usually push right past it and try to recall him acting in a memory.

It seems that memory is always one of two first, before it can weave into the collected snippets of time I’ve stored of him. It is either him smiling, 7-years old, standing by me in the driveway circle, as I cracked a joke about our mother. Or it is him, his eyes closed, rolling away from me sitting on the edge of his bed as I try to say goodbye to him, the day I left to go back to college after picking up a car my father had repaired for me. The day, as it turned out, that he killed himself.

It’s agonizing, really. It is so hard, much harder than it seems it should be, to reach back and remember a clean experience of him, more than a few moments long and disconnected from the Gorgons’ Knot of emotions I have around his suicide.

I know now that he said his goodbye to me the night before, when we spoke about how deeply we understood one another, and how it was true what everyone said – that we were twins born five years apart. He had his mind made up and as experts predict, he began to clean up the loose ends of his short life. He soothed me and made me believe that he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. He did it because he had already made up his mind that such a light was different for him than it had been for me.

There are so many worst parts of the chain of realizations that tumbles out of that knowledge. That he had committed himself to death because life was so unbearable. That his death wasn’t a cry for help gone wrong, but a firm and well-attended decision. That the comforting illusion that he might have had peace with his decision was dispelled by his inability to look me in the eye and say goodbye the next morning.

I think now he either felt guilt for my impending pain, was fighting the desire to grab on and beg for intervention, or some mix of the two that doesn’t allow the peace of a willingly dying man to squeeze in the soul between.

My friend asked recently how I was doing, knowing that spring is a hard time for me. It’s comforting to know that there is awareness in those who love me. But I struggled to respond, like I always do, because it is such an uncomfortable topic and I hate making people feel uncomfortable.

Reading this is probably making you feel uncomfortable.

But I’ve begun reading Jill Bialosky’s remarkable History of A Suicide: My Sister’s Unfinished Life, and I most admire the way that she decides to press through the layers of taboo and discomfort to be sure her sister is REMEMBERED. Not for her suicide, but for her life. To do that for my brother means always coming back and fighting through those layers to find the piece of him that shines in its essence.

I seem to have a harder time with it than Bialosky, but she is older and seems much wiser than I am as well. She is also able to reconstruct much of her sister’s life with documents and keepsakes and well-formed memories. I don’t have that luxury.

When our childhood house burned, it took all his possessions with it and most of the family pictures as well. He did not have a proper funeral or burial. Much of my childhood is blocked from memory due to the circumstances I grew up in, and I am not ungrateful for that. He had begun to grow and change so much in the first two years I was gone at college and before he died, that I’m not sure I knew all of him the way I’d like to think I did.

This leaves my memories of his face at his dying age reduced to those few images I described. Those, and that of his corpse on the coroner’s table, covered to his bare chest in a sheet and with a face both open-eyed and surprisingly unchanged from the gunshot wound through his mouth, save the shower cap-like covering they used to conceal the missing back of his head.

And that, my friends, is why I so rarely speak about my brother. Because the memories of him are so intertwined with things that expose parts of me and my history that I don’t want you to see and feel sorry for…that I don’t want anyone to view and be repulsed by.

But that avoidance diminishes his only chance to have a legacy, because all he can be now is remembered.

So when Amanda asked me how I was doing, I stumbled, but then I was honest. I told her that I am afraid now, because my children have begun asking me about my brother and they are less interested in his life than they are his death. I guess they are so full of life that they are grimly fascinated with its extinguishment.

They have asked how he died, and I responded that he was shot. Of course, they asked who shot him, and I said he shot himself. They asked how he got a gun as a child (who would give a gun to a child?) because the next logical question was not the same as it is for adults – was it intentional – because there could be no reason in their worlds that you would do that ON PURPOSE. So, Morgan concluded, no one ever taught him not to play with guns?

I have not corrected her.

It is sad, and comforting, that someday I will have to tell them the whole story and they will have that veil of unyielding faith in hope lifted from their eyes. They will see the question marks peaking through Emily Dickinson famous lines that Bialosky quotes:

“Hope is the thing with feathers/That perches in the soul/And sore must be the storm/That could abash the little bird/That kept so many warm.”

Yes, the little bird sustained many through the Holocaust, and Louis Zamparini through 48 days on raft and years in POW camps, but it was not enough to save my brother.

Hope was extinguished in his heart. Just as it was – or enough to lead them to the edge of the cliff they went over anyway – for 32,439 other young people in our country that year.

I know he meant to do it. I don’t know whether he wavered at the end or whether he was unflinching, but I do know that on May 14, 1995 my brother Steven took a sawed-off shotgun from my father’s dresser drawer, climbed halfway up a ladder in our barn, put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The fact that he fit the large barrel so carefully in his mouth precludes his death as accidental. My mother found him and called me right as I arrived back into my dorm room in Baltimore.

So unlike many, I know my loved one meant to do it. Unlike so many, I know exactly WHY he did it. What tortures me to this day and always will is that I will never know if I could have stopped him, had I known what he was planning.

The last thing I want is your kind assurance either way. It simply is as much as that small summary – I only wish that I could have known so that I could have tried my hardest to stop him. If – like Sylvia Plath – he truly lived in the “bell jar”, well then I would have had to see him go regardless. But if there was a word I could have spoken or an action I could have taken I will never know now. And that awareness seems to trap me – for now at least – in a place where I have to peel back layers of remembrance before I can find the boy before the suicide.

I’ve done it now, as I write this, and so I can see him running across the front yard laughing and covered with mud. I see him climbing the mulberry tree with me and hiding back in the old chicken sheds to escape our schoolwork. I see him dressed in the sheets we dyed with brick dust, fringed and sewed beads on to pretend we were Seminole Indians in the “chickee” we’d built using plywood and railroad ties.

I can remember him like this.

When I get to those memories he becomes so much more rounded into flesh I can almost touch, almost see the texture of his skin. It takes away the perfection that guilty memory bestows on him – his many faults included moodiness, stubbornness, pride, and a predilection for overly indulgent self-examination (like I said many folks called us twins and not just because of our looks) – and leaves in its place the relief of complete remembrance.

A beautiful, flat-faced, dark-haired, tall, thin boy with a slow, wide, toothy grin, green eyes, the kindest heart the world has ever seen, and a sharp mind that always saw the world around him just a little more clearly than I wished he could, but was never cynical despite it. At least not until the end and never that I saw.

I will keep digging though these layers, and speaking of him despite discomfort, so that someday I can push the path beyond the questions of death, and bring my children and friends along the road of the whole legacy of his life.

It’s a long journey for weary feet, but one I owe him many times over for all the years I couldn’t take it, and all the years he never will.

a

The End

2011-03-06T12:28:00.000-08:00

I think there are certain endings we’re prepared for, and certain endings we aren’t. I was contemplating – very briefly mind you – the other day that I might actually have run my last run ever. If I did, it was an ignomious 3 miles on a treadmill at 5:30am while coming down with pneumonia.

Now if I’d known that I was actually getting pneumonia and would have to shut down for the week preceding surgery, then I would have lived the moment more, knowing it was my last run before I stuck my ankle under a knife. But I didn’t, so I just treated it like any other early morning warm up run.

I’m pretty damn sure I’ll run again…but I can’t know until I do it.

That’s how it often goes, though, right? Something is over before you knew it would be and it catches you unprepared. Career changes can be abrupt, but they can also be gradual. Next thing you know you are describing yourself as a former this or that. A relationship can die in a huge fight, or it can just slowly dwindle away. You can’t even really define the moment your boyfriend became your ex-.

You plan for a last run before surgery, but you never get the chance.

Closure seems like a really basic human need. But sometimes you just can’t get it. I learned that from my brother’s suicide. And sometimes, just sometimes, I think it might be best to never get the closure we seek.

A formerly close relationship of mine has died over the past couple of years...and not the usual death of distance or benign neglect. For a long time I kept trying to answer the questions of why and how and whether I should or could try to save it. Once it became clear that answers to the last couple of questions were “no” it seemed like the why and how became even more important.

Maybe because I felt that I had to justify the ending to myself and others. I kept preparing myself for the “breakup” conversation that never came.

A little later I realized that conversation was never going to happen. At first I was confused. As much as I didn’t want the conflict, I felt like I needed the closure. But I’ve finally come to realize that some things are just better left unsaid (I know…a shocking revalation for ME) and sometimes it’s a relief to look back a realize that something is done and gone long before you realized it was over. It’s a more quiet and graceful goodbye, if less complete and less enlightening.

This morning, I realized that by sitting with the discomfort of no closure for so long, I actually HAD gotten closure. Funny thing, time...some things it can fix completely, while others it can never dent. Maybe some day I'll learn to know which is which, and save myself some angst in the process.

a

Inspiration versus don't try this at home...

2011-03-04T16:03:00.001-08:00

I am a lucky chick.

It's been drawn to my attention that I should point out that my recovery from surgery may be different than other's recoveries from injury. Particularly because some folks may be surprised by how quickly I've been able to undertake certain activities, and seek to try to come back from their own injuries too soon as a result. I would NEVER want to be the reason that someone hurts themselves. As a coach, I put a HUGE emphasis on injury prevention and - when one occurs - intelligent and holistic injury rehabilitation.

But I suppose there is a fine line between inspiration and "do not try this at home."

I AM lucky. And I'm smart. I have a super performance team. I have an amazing surgeon (because I didn't stop at the second opinion for which I got accused of opinion SHOPPING for), TWO faboulous PT firms, an incredible chiropractor (and then some), the best rehab trainers in the WORLD, and a great support network.

And I work HARD at rehab, because unlike most folks, my livelihood depends on my physicality. What does hard mean? It means rehab strength training EVERY day for 45-60 minutes. It means PT 1-3 times a week for 60 minutes. It means range of motion exercises 5 times a day. It means APPROVED cardio exercise every day since getting the boot on.

Still, I wouldn't be able to do what I can if I didn't do what most folks don't even know they should if they can...which was spend FIVE MONTHS working 3+ hours per week at PRE-hab. That means specific functional stability training to survive the post-surgical rehab period as well as possible. Without 3 hours a week with Jeremee Norman, I'd probably still be in a cast, instead of entering my second week in a boot.

Lots goes into how fast you come back from surgery/injury.

1) Was it triaged or did you have time to prepare?
2) Were you in good strength/cardio shape when it occurred or did you have specific funciton weaknesses?
3) What was the specific injury and what were YOUR restrictions in rehab?
4) How many hours a week can you devote to rehab?
5) Do you have an established performance team who communicates well with one another?
6) How well do you know your body?

I wish for everyone the speedy recovery that I have experienced so far, but unfortunately, the reality is that everyone's situation is different and even mine has encountered it's rocky places. I've made mistakes along the way (getting pissed off on Tuesday for instance, and pushing too hard on the bike), but generally I've listened to and commmunicated with my performance team at every step along the way so I can be confident that I'm doing the right things at the right times for my body. I've had moments where - for work or for motherhood - I've done things I wasn't sure I should, but I've made sure to check in with my doc to make sure that I stay on track.

I am a lucky chick, but I'm also one who works incredibly hard to do the RIGHT thing for my body. I wish everyone who experiences an injury the support and ability to heal as quickly and WISELY as possible, because I understand the frustration all too well.

Best of luck to you!

a

Unbroken and no longer SO broken....

2011-02-26T11:15:00.000-08:00

Fabulous pictures of our Mt. Washington excursion coming soon. Some of them will provide proof that my daughter will almost surely grow up to race dogsleds, if not actually live among wolves. Meanwhile, Sam has decided that plastic ice skating rinks do not cut it, mostly because they are slow and have no zamboni to watch.

While they've been out conquering the slopes of Bretton Woods, I've been catching up - on work, on thank you notes, on reading. One of the books that I've been desperate to finish for a while is Laura Hillenbrand's "Unbroken." I finally got to devour it and it was worth the wait.

A lot of people on this planet have been through a lot of hardship in their lives. Louis Zamperini, the subject of the book, is one of the few individuals on this planet who can probably safely say that he has been through unsurpassed strife, survived it, got broken by it, and recovered to become a better man from it.

An American Olympic runner, a bombadier, a badass kid...none of it could prepare a human being for what he went through...shot down with his crew, 40+ days in a sinking raft surrounded by sharks with no food or water, shoot at and finally captured by the enemy, followed by years in the worst Japanese POW camps. At one point the guy weighed 76 pounds (he was 5'10") and was brutally beaten by his captors for the better part of every day...for MONTHS. Surrounded by death and inhumanity.

Honestly, this book did two things for me. It convinced me that a certain genetic makeup, a psychophysiological construct, allows some people to survive the unsurvivable. The most striking aspect of the book was not how many of the POWs died, but how many LIVED. Starved, wracked by dysentary, beaten, amputated, tortured, degraded, frozen, shot, stabbed, forced into hard labor...I honestly had to put the book down at one point and contemplate the fact that these guys CHOSE to keep going when death probably seemed like the kinder option.

For Louie's part, defiance and stubborness were his saviors. For others it seemed to be faith, family, or the fact that the fates of their fellow prisoners rested on their shoulders.

Amazing.

The second thing it did for me was reinforce the idea that running can, in fact, be a salvation, but it also needs perspective. This kid was going down a fast track to nowhere good when he was forced to join the track team. He sucked at first and hated it. After a while though, he found a peace in it that didn't exist anywhere else. He went to the Olympics and was expected by many to be the first to run a sub-four minute mile.

Instead he went to war, and managed to survive what most of us can't even contemplate.

Talk about inspiration.

I got the boot on on Wednesday, and have largely lost the crutches. Ah, liberation. I've been able to climb on the stationary bike and start some rehab strength work on the affected leg every day since.

What a blessing. Honest to God, I don't think I could be more grateful to everyone who has gotten me to this point in my rehab. Including Louie, who's story has pretty much given me a lifetime pass to perspective.

a

Oooo-la-la!!!

2011-02-12T10:39:00.000-08:00

Beware...this post is SUPER sexy. If you can't handle hotness, you need to go elsewhere...

For the rest of you, you get to see the inside of my ankle :)

Yum, I know. Thought I'd help you out with your caloric intake today.

Generally, the big globs of pink aren't supposed to be there. That's scar tissue. There is supposed to be smooth white (bone) and shiny white (fascia or cart.). The silver tool in the bottom right pic is the secret implant for maximum speed...um, ok that's just his little clipper tool snipping away.

Those after photos are pretty cool, eh???

Now for the REALLY good lookin' stuff:

Since everyone I encounter seems to believe that I am overdoing it and not following orders, I will state the obvious here - I'm ALLOWED to take off the cast. It's made that way so that I can exercise the ankle three times per day.

Tomorrow, I get to SHOWER. Now that's a REAL fantasy in my book these days.

I will also state, for the record, that while I know everyone is just concerned, I really am NOT an idiot. I have followed Doctor's orders to the LETTER and where I've questioned them, I have contacted the office and clarified them.

Every single thing I'm doing, I've cleared with the doc. Driving the hand-controlled car. Resuming workouts with Jeremee. Range of motion exercises. Sleeping positions. Activity level. The whole nine yards.

I want this thing to WORK after all this. So I am being a VERY good doobie. And it is showing...doc said it's perfect and healing quickly.

Stitches came out yesterday, removable hard cast is on, and I transition to the walking boot (no more crutches!!!) on the 23rd. I'm in that for 4 more weeks while I do PT, and then hopefully it comes off and after another month of PT and non-impact exercise, I can start to build my run again.

I know folks are just protective but I PROMISE that I'm taking very good care of myself! :)

I now have another nice scar to add to my repertoire...exciting. Speaking of ugly things, one of my most wonderful friends was told last night by an acquaintance at a meeting that she needed to lose some weight...then she'd be really cute. He went on to say that she just needed to push herself away from the table more often - it was that simple. This exchange did NOT take place after she mentioned her weight or asked for any nutritional advice...he just basically took it upon himself to bestow his opinion upon her.

My friend does NOT have a weight problem. She is a flourishing athlete. She eats well, but doesn't deprive herself, choosing instead to practice moderation in her diet. She is beautiful. She is kind. She is balanced and secure. She - quite honestly - is what most of us strive to be (or SHOULD strive to be) in our own lives.

However, instead of just getting angry, she - like almost any woman of ANY shape or size would have done including myself - was deeply hurt and questioned herself and her appearance after this a$$hole's rant.

Bullsh*t.

This guy - and everyone like him - just wants to tear down a great thing because HE sucks and he KNOWS it.

I saw a bumper sticker a long time ago that has always stuck with me. It said "Ugly on the outside ruins nothing. Ugly on the inside ruins everything." In discussing the exchange, my friend offered another great summation: "Hurt people hurt people."

If I laid eyes on that guy right now, he'd be hurting a lot worse.

a

Whoopie!?!

2011-02-05T11:56:00.000-08:00

There is a whoopie pie sitting four inches away from my right hand right now.

I REALLY want to eat it.

It's one of a pair that my husband brought home from the store; my son just stole them from the pantry and I snatched the remaining survivor from his hand as he ran by. That's the thing...now my kids can run away from me and actually GET away from me.

Oy.

At least they leave whoopie pies in their naughty little wakes.

On second thought, when you're burning all of about 105 calories per day, whoopie pies - no matter how yummy - are not your friends.

I've actually lost no less than 7 pounds since I had the surgery. So why does this not make me happy you ask? Why do I not eat the whoopie pie in celebration?

Because those 7 pounds are 25% water and 75% muscle, that's why. Not a shred of fat among them. All those months of pumping iron, and its gone in a WEEK. Painful.

I still really want that f'ing whoopie pie. I've been surviving on soup, water, and diet ginger ale, with the occasional chai latte thrown in by sympathetic visitors.

ANYWAY. No whoopie pie for me.

It's that time of year. I've had the sorry task in the last two weeks of turning down no less than 13 prospective athletes who are looking for coaching for this upcoming season. There were several who I'd L-O-V-E to work with too. So sad.

What is sadder is that those are 13 less opportunities to live vicariously through someone else's training and racing this season. There. I said it.

I need the fix. Even if it's second-hand.

Now is not the time to complain to me about how your training is going. As least it's going. Mine is slumbering deeply in the land of daydreams alone.

Which feels like crapola and I'm not afraid to say it.

I was running numbers on the 30ish athletes currently enrolled in B&S Sport Science's computrainer classes. Analyzing testing data and using the results to optimize performance is one of most geekily fulfilling parts of my job. I can't wait to go back to grad school and do it MORE.

That being said, it's not nearly as much fun when I don't get to test MYSELF as well. I find myself looking at others numbers, and wishing that I could see what I could do as well.

But I am IMMENSELY grateful for one trait of mine that I've questioned the value of in the past...the reality that I get at least as much if not MORE pleasure from helping someone ELSE meet their athletic goals, as I do from attempting and attaining my own.

Saving grace at this moment I must say. And it will have to do for a while longer.

Nine days down, 47 to go.

a

Post-Op Report

2011-01-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

I am, today, the embodiment of RICE.

Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation.

I am also much like rice. Soft, bland, and slightly overcooked.

So…where were we?

Oh right, I was freaking out about surgery.

Now, surgery is over. So let’s review.

Getting sliced open is a toughie. It’s really not something to do unless you have to, but it’s also not something that you should put off too long if you do…and figuring out where you are on the spectrum is often trickier that it should be.
Case in point. Last summer, I went to Doctor #1, for ankle pain and because my primary care physician (who seems to always be right I must say) said that he was pretty sure I was sporting a good sized ganglion cyst that was pressing on a nerve and causing my discomfort and numbness. I was also due for a check on my hip dysplasia degeneration, but that was more of an afterthought than anything (for me anyway).

Doc #1 says ankle is fine (no cyst – just a “tipped” bone) but hips are wrecked and I shouldn’t run more than 8 miles at a time. Ankle should feel better as a result.
Doc #1 seems so reasonable, my body is rebelling, I think he’s right…I need to run less. So I do. Ankle continues to get worse.

I go back to Doc #1 and get an MRI. Turns out there is a “tiny” cyst. He says minor surgery to remove and 10-14 day recovery. I am not impressed when Doc #1 says this while examining the wrong ankle. I decide to get second opinion.

Doc #2 looks at MRI and foot. Is very thorough. He says cyst is larger than MRI report says and that it needs to be carefully removed so nerve is not damaged, arthroscopic surgery performed to remove scar tissue, and chronic ligament sprain addressed. Recovery time – 4-6 weeks in cast, 4-6 in boot, 4 weeks of additional PT before attempting running.

I’m sorry, Doctor, what did you say?

The soonest surgical date I could get was 6 weeks out. So I also call to schedule a third opinion, the soonest I can get being 5.8 weeks out.

So two days before I’m set to have major surgery, I’m in yet another renowned surgeon’s office, trying to figure out why Doc 1 and Doc 2 seem to be inhabiting different planets. Doc 3 looks at the MRI, examines my ankle, declares that he agrees with Doc 2 about arthroscopy, but wouldn’t touch the ligaments, and probably wouldn’t bother with the cyst…it's just minor and can’t really be impacting anything.

At least Doc 2 and 3 are speaking the same language, but they hardly agree. I left the office and called Sara my PT and my friend Jen who is my partner in crimes against ankles so she knows the lingo. They both said the same thing…suck it up, call Doc 2, and press him to explain again why he’s taking the tact he is taking.

Now, not to stereotype, but generally world renowned surgeons are well known for their patience in the face of questioning, and the last thing I wanted was a pissed off surgeon hacking apart my ankle. But I decided it’s MY ankle God damn it, and I refuse to be intimidated into doing something I’m not sure about.

So I called him, and asked him, very nicely, why we couldn’t just do the arthroscopy and see if the cyst would just resolve, and have me healed back up and running in 4-6 weeks.

Not only was he not arrogant or offended, but he was kind and took his time explaining that I could make any decision I wanted, but that he felt really strongly that the cyst was significant and had to be removed to prevent nerve damage, and that the arthroscopic alone would not resolve my symptoms. He would re-evaluate everything constantly throughout the surgery depending upon what he found.

Well, there it was. Three doctors. Two of them known as the “Best of Boston.” One had just repaired the $128 million dollar ankle of one local, hall-of-fame quarterback. And none of them could offer me more than their opinion to go on. And – of course – all of their opinions were different.

As Pete said, they give you JUST enough information to make an UNEDUCATED decision.
And so it was left to me to decide. I had three things to work with:
1) I have knowledgeable folks around me to offer advice
2) I had inclinations about all three doctors and an particular innate level of trust (or lack thereof) for each
3) In the end, I am the one who knows my body best.

I went with Doc 2 and (obviously) had the surgery. And it turned out that he was right…the cyst was much larger than the MRI indicated and had distended the nerve that lay above it. It had a tail that reached down into the joint, from which it had emanated. They also found a lot more scar tissue that had to be removed during the arthroscopy, but my ankle stability has improved to the point where I didn’t need any ligament tightening (thanks again Jeremee).

Anyway, aside from the disgusting pain meds that killed me for about 48 hours after surgery, everything went well and I’m beginning to get up and around a LITTLE. When I do it’s like a concentrated psychofit – balance, and core, and one-legged everything. When Jeremee said he was peaking me for surgery, I didn’t realize he meant it LITERALLY. But now I realize how much better off I am with my body as strong as it is.

I miss my kids’ activities and my work, and can’t wait to get myself together, but I know that taking the time to heal right now is crucial to my long term prognosis. I owe huge thanks to my friends Susannah, Jen, Maris, Donna, and everyone else who has taken up the slack, helped Pete out, and generally made me feel less badly about being completely useless, which it is clear I am going to be for at least the next couple of weeks.

Here’s hoping I’m not useless for long…next step is stitches out on the 11th and hard cast put on. I’ll let you know how it goes ;)
a

Thursday, January 27, 2011

2011-01-17T15:51:00.000-08:00

I've gotten a couple of emails and Facebook messages from folks wondering how I'm doing after my surgery. I think this is karmic preparation for when I actually DO have my surgery, which is this Thursday the 27th. It's also lovely...someone loves me enough to panic and think they've missed a big, bad day in my life, and therefore seek to make up for it. I think that's very nice and very much something I would do because I am always forgetting something I really do care about and trying to make up for it afterwards.

So I understand.

But I haven't had it yet, so there is no need to panic.

At least no reason for YOU to panic. I have all the reasons in the WORLD to panic.

I am desperate not to have this surgery, however, my ankle has gotten so bad that I can barely run 5 miles on it and if I do, I can barely walk the next day. It's so funny to me. Last summer I went to the doctor about my ankle, and came out crying over my hips. The ankle was an afterthought.

Well, sorry doc, but the hips still don't hurt any more than usual, but the ankle turned into quite the f'ing nightmare! Still though, contemplating 8 weeks in a cast and boot and then 4 more weeks before I can even TRY running again produces these hysterical anxiety attacks that I haven't quite figured out how to cope with...but I hear the post-surgical meds should help ;)

Of course, having awesome timing as usual, I now have pneumonia and am on antibiotics AND there is a big snow storm looming over surgery day. How sweet. So I just spent 2 hours on the phone pleading with anesthesiologists and nurses so that I can prevent cancelling surgery that I do not want to have.

The next week is just a scurry to accomplish everything in my life that needs accomplishing but can't be done while on my butt. The on-my-butt stuff will have MORE than sufficient time to be finished after the 27th. Chances are, I will not call you back before then, but I'll chat endlessly with you after :)

Oy.

a
a

2011-01-08T15:56:00.000-08:00

For Christmas, Pete got me a gift certificate to a nail place. Not a hardware store, a pretty-up your digits place.

When I went I started perusing the colors, I found a very uncharacteristic shade of pink, which I immediately seized.

It was the color of Mrs. Wren. She was my violin teacher, funny, kind, and tough. Her first name was Hannah, but I would never use that. She WAS so bird-like, that Wren was entirely appropriate.

She was about 5 feet tall and about 85 pounds. Her speech had never fully recovered from a stroke she suffered a few years before I started taking lessons, but her hands still made beautiful music. And even though she was not well off financially, her nails were always perfectly done in that EXACT shade of pink.

By contrast my piano teacher, Mrs. Atkinson, cut her nails very short and used clear polish. Perfect cuticles, perfectly coiffed hair, but plain, shorn nails. She H-A-T-E-D the sound of clicking nails on the keyboard, so she set out to set the example her pupils must follow. I didn't mind, but it drove a lot of the girly girls out of her studio early in their teens.

Mrs. Wren and Mrs. Atkinson didn't much like each other. Something about some church fall out years before I was even born. They were the same age - early to mid sixties, but they were so different in many ways - one reserved and the other firey, one upper-middle class and the other working class, one plump and strong, and the other frail.

In one way they were alike - they cared for me, and they weren't afraid to act on their affection. Both were very proper women - ladylike to the last - but they were anything but warm and fuzzy. Tough, disciplined, and yet loving all the same.

My brother Steven never had a Mrs. Wren or a Mrs. Atkinson. He just had a whole lot of people who decided there was nothing they could do.

Sub-consciously, sometime since knowing my teachers and losing my brother, I've divided the world into two groups of people in my mind. The people who look at someone in need and can't look away, and those who convince themselves there is nothing they can or should do. I decided a long time ago, that I'd be in the former group - like Mrs. Wren and Mrs. Atkinson - and for really selfish reasons.

See, I don't really believe in the afterlife in a strict sense. To me, hell is dying with regrets, knowing that you've left the world no better than you found it, and knowing in your heart that you will not be remember long or well. And heaven is knowing that you made life better and happier for someone else, and that those who you loved and touched will carry on that spirit of giving in the world.

I still tell my kids stories about Mrs. Atkinson and Mrs. Wren. When Morgan takes out my violin, I show her how Mrs. Wren would fix the bridge. When I play Christmas carol on the piano, I tell Sam that I chose this arrangement because it's one Mrs. Atkinson would like.

I told Morgan, when I came home from the nail salon, that I had Mrs. Wren nails.

The funny thing is, they didn't do THAT much. They inconvenienced themselves a little, reached out more than they had to, and didn't show the slightest bit of pity. They held me accountable (no practice no lessons) at the same time they helped me hold up.

That's all you have to do. Next time, don't look away. Don't convince yourself that you can't do anything. Don't do nothing. Just do a little something.

Mrs. Wren and Mrs. Atkinson are in my version of heaven. The way I figure, that means if we all follow in their footsteps, we'll get there too.

And as much as I love Mrs. Atkinson, I think this is the color my nails will be when I get there.

a

New Year's Intentions

2011-01-01T10:41:00.000-08:00

Even through three is my lucky number, I only make one resolution per year. And I usually keep it, mainly because a) there's only one and b) I tend to set the bar pretty low. Recent examples include last year's "stop going to Starbucks EVERY day," and 2009's "stop buying tabloid magazines (like People)." Both were successful...both were also pretty lame.

And that's because I realize that resolutions are no wiggle room proclamations that are made to be broken. You fall off the wagon once, and the game is off. I don't do well with failure, so I tend not to set myself up for it (knowingly at least).

But I have bigger things I need to get going on in the personal department, so 2011 calls for some loftier goals. Lame-o resolutions aren't on the menu this year, but neither is some no-win game of chicken with my will-power.

So instead of resolutions, this year I am forming intentions (oh Lord, you say, April's been going to yoga again!). And I'm seizing my lucky number of three, mainly because that's the number I need to set the stage I want for the year.

1) It is my intention to learn to value process above outcome.

I'm a goal oriented girl. I also like planning. It's the distance between the creation of the goal and the achievement of the goal where I tend to suck. Not that I don't do it, but I don't appreciate it, I don't like it, and I tend to spend my time looking past it and forward to the end-point.

That's a recipe for wishing your life away.

It also - I think - helps me hide from the truth about things. If you love the thought of something, and are happy after you've accomplished it, but hate most moments of the DOING of it, chances are you don't actually love THAT thing.

Case in point. I like the thought of training for and completing a long-distance (10k plus) open water swim. I could see how the training would be good for my body and my mind, how it would make me a better triathlete, how it would be an incredible challenge. I can also see that I would be successful and very proud once I'd finished (I did the 10k new year's day pool swim with the Beverly master's one year and it was a point of pride that year).

However, I can honestly say, if I focus more on process than outcome, I'd rather chew my right arm off than train for the 8.8 mile Lake Champlain swim.

So for what I'm already doing, focusing on the process means living the day I'm on. For what I'm considering doing, it means focusing my envisioning on the process not the outcome, and basing my decision on that instead.

2) It is my intention to live with more compassion for myself and others.

This is a tricky one. I'm already pretty empathetic, and in the past I've mistaken compassion with not holding people accountable. Lately, I've confused accountability with disappointment and anger on more than a few occasions.

Both are wrong-headed.

I need to hold people accountable, and be accountable myself. But tempered with compassion, that accountability can be clear-eyed, dispassionate, and objective. With less emotion invested, and more loving-kindness applied, I can make more rational and less exhausting decisions and judgements about my own actions and the actions of those around me.

If I apply the standard of "is this compassionate?" to many of my actions towards myself and others...um....they fail right now. And they probably will continue to fail to some extent, even as I make that a focus. Which brings me to intention number three.

3) It is my intention to embrace failures and the learning that comes with them.

An exhausting fear of failure drives me. And sometimes it drives me away from doing what I most love or most want to do, because I might not succeed. Other times it steals the joy away from what I really love (racing, coaching, parenting) because - low and behold - fear of failure focuses on the outcome, NOT the process. Ah ha! Imagine...these intentions might be inter-related and inter-dependent!

Shocking, I know.

So this is my year of failure. Not pursuing it, but not singularly avoiding it either. Not inviting it, but not fighting it like a cornered dog when it's visible - faintly - on the horizon. Not focusing on it, but when it happens, learning from it.

Experiencing, acknowledging, and observing the environment and outcomes of failing.

That, my friends, is a fucking scary thought.

I'll try to be compassionate with myself when I freak out and fail at failing. At least I can focus on the process while I'm doing it :)

I'll have plenty of time to sit around and contemplate applying these intentions after my ankle reconstruction surgery on January 27th. About 4-6 weeks in a cast, followed by 4-6 weeks in a boot, then a month of PT before I can start easing back into training.

What I won't be doing is a lot of of my normal coaching and volunteer activities and any of my normal training. No spring marathon, no track sessions, no trainer classes at Seaside Cycle, limited on-site coaching. Maybe the process of clearing these decks will help me see how I can eventually realize my big professional and personal goal of going back to graduate school. Process, not outcome, right? ;)

Happy New Year!

a

You Might Say No To The Stars...

2010-12-13T05:33:00.000-08:00

Morgan's solution to being so exhausted her head wouldn't stop spinning...

The kids thanking Henry and Bonnie after the show.

This fall, my 7-year-old, Morgan, has been working her little tush off as a cast member of the North of Boston Arts Center's production of an original musical - "The Tale of the Oysta" - based on the music of Cole Porter and George and Ira Gershwin. The last two weeks were especially intense, given the everyday rehersals which culminated in four days of shows.

The kids had written the musical over the summer, and it was AMAZING. I was blown away by how funny, wise, joyous, and yes - lyrical - "The Oysta" was. The combination of humor, wit, silliness, and social awareness clued me into just how capable and creative our kids really are.

But the show wouldn't have happened without the two adults who gave their time - and BOY did they give a lot of it - Henry Allen, the Director, and Bonnie Rynkowski, the Producer. My daughter fell in love with the theater largely because of Henry's kindness and enthusiasm, and sobbed after the show because she "might never see him again" (fat chance).

Last night I was thinking how grateful I was for his presence in Morgan's life...and all these kids lives. There are so many people who go so far above and beyond. As we chide people more and more for "taking on too much" and "not learning to say no" it was exactly a person like that who gave my daughter the experience of a lifetime.

Hmmmmmm....

The tension between how much one CAN get done in one day and how much they SHOULD get done in one day has been building as fast as technology has evolved. As folks feel more and more cornered, accessible day and night, their resentment of the demands placed on their time grows too.

So the pendulum has begun to swing, with the exponential increase in websites, blogs, and articles devoted to “simple living.” The topic du jour is “saying no” to further commitments. It’s become the rage to “learn to say yes to saying no,” or assert that the caring thing to do is to take on less so ou can truly fulfill the commitments you prioritize.

I get it, and I agree with the movement on a lot of levels. I especially agree that it is about prioritization. It’s every person’s right to prioritize their life as they see fit. And they don’t have to justify their priorities to anyone else. If you need to spend 80 hours a week at work to make ends meet, make attending your children’s swim lessons an inviolable commitment, or go back to school, you’ve got to set boundaries and enforce them if you want to have any sanity. Hell, if you want to update your facebook status every ten minutes, organize your Tupperware, or watch 6 hours of TV a day that is absolutely your right as well.

But I'm really glad that Henry decided not to say no. I'm so grateful that - on top of his other commitments - he devoted himself to the verge of a meltdown. Because he did, about 30 kids learned about jazz and the Great Depression, about courage and compassion on stage, and about giving themselves the permission to be great.

And you reap what you sow...Henry has a devoted group of families ready to support any and all of his work because of what he's done for their kids. Likewise, if you embrace the ethic of “no,” then you need be prepared for others to say the same to you. As long as you are ok with that, then everybody’s golden. The problem comes when you say no, but you expect everyone else to say yes. I've experienced that from a bunch of "no-ers" lately.

If you guard your time jealously that should be respected. But don’t expect others to keep giving you theirs. If you’ve been practicing protecting your priorities, don’t ask me to reorder mine to accommodate you.

Because as harsh as this may sound, I believe that "saying no" can also be a euphemism for being lazy and selfish, and “simplifying” can serve as cover for those whose habit it is to suck other people dry and give nothing or little in return. Obviously, you have to say no to too many obligations or too many invasions of your time or you won't give well to any. But you also need to gut check yourself occasionally and make sure that you are giving back as much as you get from the people, causes and community around you.

I had a variety of experiences with no this week, and they prove to me how complex this issue is. One – from an old friend and mentor – was honestly stated and completely understandable and I actually agree with his choice. Another was from someone who I have continually bent over backwards to help, but who has repeatedly chosen to not return the favor in even the most minor of ways.

I just said no to someone myself…someone who has said nothing but no to me for a long time now but has always been more than happy to ask of me quite liberally. And that no was as satisfying as any I've ever delivered - and I do deliver my fair share of no's to be sure.

But I also said yes this past week – I said yes to taking on more work to benefit a friend. I said yes to a huge time commitment for my child. I also got some huge yeses, from people who offered to step up in some HUGE ways when I have my surgery.

It isn’t black and white, balance is elusive, and it’s hard sometimes to know what to do. But as a community and a country, we have to beware of constantly falling back on excuses. "It’s too hard", "I’m too busy", "life is too stressful"…a good life IS hard, it IS busy, and it IS stressful. So is building and maintaining relationships and the civic commitments we require for true happiness and a healthy sense of community.

The bottom line is that you are allowed to make the choice that’s right for you. Just don’t complain when others do the same.

And I for one, am very grateful that one local director decided to say yes.

a

Get my sister's book for free!

2010-11-22T08:48:00.000-08:00

The e-file of my sister's amazing book is being offered by Amazon.com as a FREE download until Saturday, November 27th. You can download it to your PC if you don't have a Kindle.

I am remarkably biased BUT I honestly feel that it is a MUST READ for athletes looking to understand and train the mental side of their game...and edge that can not be overestimated.

Click HERE to get a copy!

a

Selling the farm...

2010-11-17T10:36:00.000-08:00

I grew up on a farm in Ohio. Actually that's a misnomer. I grew up on a large piece of property with lots of animals and barns. Most of my life, my father was a long-distance truck driver, and my mother was...not a farmer.

Ironically, despite all the awful things that happened there, I spent most of my life believing that the seven acres where I was raised were a refuge. As long as I stayed outside of the house and got my schoolwork and chores done (I was homeschooled), I was mostly free to do as I pleased in the woods and creeks and barns. That all changed later when it became the place where my brother died and his ashes were scattered, and changed still more when the house burned down and the property became abandoned.

The farm was the only thing my father had when he died in 2007, and he owed many thousands of back taxes on it. My surviving brother faces a lifetime of service needs due to his disability. My mother's needs are more difficult to manage but equally urgent.

My sisters and I reached the conclusion together that for those reasons and many others, we have to sell the land. I've known that was the plan for more than a year. We each have tasks to get done what needs to be done, and mine has been to reach out to a real estate broker.

Seven times, over the span of 3 months, I've sat down to write an email or make a phone call to the broker that an old friend recommended. Seven times, I've gotten up and walked away from the task. The rest of the time, I've just avoided even thinking about it.

This morning, I read a friend's facebook status, which was an anonymous quote, "As a child, I prayed for the burden to pass. Now, as a (wo)man, I pray for the strength to bear the burden." This afternoon, I sent the email.

The aftermath was a painful jumble of relief, memories, and utter sadness. Pulling myself together, it made me reflect on what complex lives we all lead. There is so much under the surface, just below what we all see in each other and show the world ourselves. The human experience is so hard and so beautiful all at once, sometimes it takes your breath away. We trade one burden for another...pray for one to pass, and in passing it leaves another in its wake.

I think the burdened lightened with my action today, but it will always be there. Thankfully, so also will my memories of the farm, and I am for that I am grateful beyond what these words can convey.

a

A Few Rants Far Between

2010-11-10T11:53:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I will not be blogging as much as I once did. At least for the forseeable future, while my life looks much akin to a 3-ring circus.

And that might be forever.

I have a million half-started (or half-finished I suppose) posts that will probably never see the light of day because when I return to them I forget the saliency of the point I was trying to make more often then not. Which makes leaving them unfinished a good choice, since it must not have been all that important of a post anyway.

But some things rattle around and won't lie down, and I won't try to tie them together but will instead stick them out there.

1. One of my dearest friends just ran a marathon, and missed her goal time by 23 seconds. WTF. It's not like missing your 5k goal time by 23 seconds, which is significant...we're talking about 0.2% of the duration of the race. A water stop. Half a pee break. A large crowd at mile 16 that you have to pull up behind and weave your way through. A series of small 2-second decisions over the course of four hours.

Of course she should still be proud. Hell - she ran a freaking marathon, and a cold, crowded one at that. She PR'd by something close to 10 minutes I think. She obviously COULD have made her goal time from a talent and fitness perspective.

But it still sucks. Big. Time.

As athletes, we H-A-T-E the asterisk, although we begrudgingly use it rather than leave the number standing and unexplained. Some of the asterisks I have used for various races include:

-Herniated disks (IMWI)
-The marathon course was 1.2 miles too long (B&A Trail)
-I had intense gastric distress brought on the the month of antibiotics I was on for walking pneumonia (B&A...apparently my race of many asterisks)
-I got heat stroke (Firmman RI)
-I dislocated my post-tibial tendon (RI 70.3)

None of those involved DNF's but did involve missed goals. 3:53 for B&A. 12:30 for IMWI. 5:40 for Firmman RI and 5:20 for RI 70.3.

I was proud I finished them. Proud of the times I turned in given the circumstances. But PISSED that those circumstances existed. Pissed I didn't meet my goals. Pissed that I felt the need to explain why ad nauseum.

So I'm pissed on behalf of my friend, even if she has made peace with those measily, incredibly irritating 23 seconds that will be a thorn in her side until she runs another marathon at least 24 seconds faster. Or maybe she's fine and I'm just projecting on her...perfectly possible.

But just for once I'd like for myself or one of my close friends to do a race, meet a goal, and have NO asterisks. Like my fellow blogger Kristina Pinto of MarathonMama did at Berlin this year, when she finally cast the monkey off her back and got her BQ...a quest that had taken something like 5 or 6 marathons. I was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO happy when I saw she'd made it. I cried. I don't even know the woman very well...have never met her in person.

But just as I relate to my friend's NY frustration, I SO related to Kristina's joy. Maybe someday soon I'll get to experience that once again for myself...I've had it before, but not for a while.

2. We need to do a better job as athletes and parents discussing our nutritional choices and why we make them with our children. While we may know that we are carefully monitoring our diets and eating on a periodized plan for optimal body composition for performance, if we aren't careful our children get the same message sent by parents obessessed with fad diets and disordered eating for the sake of appearance, even at the expense of health.

It's also important - ahem - to make sure that you aren't using the former to justify the latter in your OWN life. Just sayin.

When we count calories, restrict our diets, make choices that are clearly not the easiest ones (maybe kale is YOUR favorite food, but I'd rather be eating chocolate cake) we can send unintended messages about food and body image to our children that are really oppositional to our intentions.

Over-rigidity and food/exercise obsession can also cause our kids to wholeheartedly reject healthy eating and exercise altogether. A very sad outcome for both them and us.

I've started to see the ramifications - body image issues, eating disorders, rejection of exercise and sports - in a lot of children of athletes, and I think it bears scrutiny in our community. When does an emphasis on athletic achievement cross the line from being an inspirational example for our children and become a negative role model of self-obsession? At what point does performance enhancement, either through increased training hours, diversion of energy to training, or nutritional restriction begin to unfairly impact our children? I think that point lies farther out the more we engage and honestly discuss them with our children. Such discussions can also be useful lens for us to answer some of these hard questions for ourselves.

Believe me, the LAST thing I advocate is for parents to set aside their athletic goals and sport-specific training in favor of blindly devoting themselves to their offspring. Stuffing square pegs into round holes is rarely the best option. But pretending that mommy or daddy's single-minded pursuit of kona glory or a low handicap - when triathlon or golf doesn't even pay the bills (and in fact COSTS money) - is somehow a benefit or great example for little Jonny and Janie is equally ridiculous.

As with all things in life, question your assumptions...no matter what they are...and you'll usually come out the better for it.

3. Which brings me to my final rant. The recent exposes of the "200 million dollar myth" and the corporate ties of academics in the economic field (the same academics who promulgated policy and research that drove us off the derivatives cliff) made me think that we should ALL undertake a little experiment.

Spend 3 days listening only to Fox News and your choice of right-wing radio. Don't read, listen to, or watch any other sources or shows. Then spend the next 3 days watching only MSNBC and listening to Air America (really your only choice for liberal radio). Then spend the next three days, watching PBS, CNN and listening to NPR.

During each three day period, single out some major news stories and jot down your understanding of the details and background of the story from the particular news sources you were exposed to. Compare the nuances of your understanding by three-day period.

I think this exercise would help dispel some of the myths of media "bias." What we have is "self-selectivity" bias. I watch Rachel Maddow because she reinforces my beliefs and it is self-gratifying to hear her confirm my positions. Likewise, Jerry Callahan listens to Ann Coulter, because she does the same for him. From either source, the breadth of our understanding is compromised, because the information does not come from the "media" or a "journalist" but from a lobbyist with an agenda. It might be one that we agree on, but not one that adds to our understanding of the world around us or the people we share it with.

Meanwhile, if not perfect, there are news sources that still seek objectivity. It's easier to see when you saturate yourself with those that don't. All sides are presented. REAL questions, hard questions are asked. No conclusions are drawn for the audience.

As uncomfortable as the news we receive from these sources is, and despite the fact that we are still obligated - as thinking people - to question and research facts for ourselves and be aware of our own biases, we need more exposure to them, and less to the "politinews" that only exacerbates the worst tendency in us all - the tendency to shun what we don't know, surround ourselves with others who think exclusively like us, and insulate ourselves with ignorance.

Happy hunting for the truth...

a

This Public Service Announcement is Brought to You by DayQuil

2010-11-01T08:39:00.000-07:00

I am dreadfully under the weather, so much so that it is actually pleasant in a way. There is no question as to whether or not I could eek out a workout or make a dent in the dysfunction/disorganization or my house, so instead I can just sit at my computer and grind out the boatloads of work that need to be accomplished before FamiliesTRI gets up and running.

It also allows me to be all bloggy.

Due to the business of the season with all things TriROK, I haven't been my usual bloggy self, or my usual politic-y self either. I can't imagine the last gubernatorial election where there wasn't a sign on my lawn. Now I see my naked grass and think of all the signs I should have up there but don't, especially since I can see my neighbor's Hudak sign from where I sit (even the Republican establishment admits that man is NUTS).

What comforts me is knowing that those signs do not - and never have - made a difference. We know this now from all those smarty pants studies on fact rejection and belief reinforcement...we humans basically hardly ever change our minds. Except when we change them all the time...see change and hope and two years later Sharron Angle.

Yes - they are probably going to elect a certifiably crazy-person with full foregone knowledge. Then again, its the state that accepts Las Vegas as an urban scene of urbanity.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCI46nwzn7s&feature=channel

Anyway...

So I was trying to make sense in my mind...this contradiction between rejecting facts in favor of the beliefs we already hold AND wildly swinging from political philosophies.

I mean I get it. I know why it happens...it's a pretty well studied and well explained political phenomenon. But I have to wonder if folks as a whole in this country will ever stand back, sigh, and realize that this approach just ain't workin'. And no - hiring crazy people to do the jobs that the liars couldn't get done isn't going to be the fix we're looking for. Because in the end, the crazy people got bought out by the same corporate forces that purchased the liars and its in their interest to keep us fighting each other.

I wonder if you can ever avoid needing to burn the house down to build it back correctly. I think Crazy Sharron smartly appeals to that common sentiment when she opines that Social Security and Medicare need to be phased out because "they are just so broken they can't be fixed."

Sometimes a task seems just so big and complex that we just can't face it. So we look desperately for some quick fix or easy answer, even if we know it's too good to be true.

And if that message is delivered with enough passion, you can buy it pretty easily, even if it leaves a slightly greasy feeling in your throat on the way down. One of my biggest issues with Obama has always been that his "hope" rhetoric didn't come with enough of the "this will only work if we learn to sacrifice together as a nation" truth that the country needed.

Of course, then he wouldn't have been elected.

Just like if Sharron Angle mentioned the actual amount of money that retirees would have to survive on if we had privatized social security under Bush II as she advocates we should have, she'd get laughed off the ballot. Likewise if she mentioned privatizing paving roads and building bridges (TOLLS TOLLS TOLLS!!!), and water delivery infrastructure...can't wait to see THAT water bill can you! Less government, lower taxes just sounds so much better.

But the fault for buying the bill of goods sold down both aisles ultimately lies with us..."Get the government's hands off of my medicare?*" "Hope is greater than fear?**"

Platitudes and easy fixes...if only they'd work. But no better is the paralysis caused by standing and staring down the chaos of a broken bureaucracy. Babies and bathwater...what to do?

It's funny the parallels that develop in your head while doped up on DayQuil. If you want to lose 150 pounds, you are likely to decide you need some radical program like BiggestLoser or some risky surgery like gastric bypass. If you only need to lose one pound, you put down the donut, eat a carrot instead, and go for a walk. After a few days, the pound is gone.

Make those sound, rational, sometimes challenging choices 150 times over, and you lose 150 pounds, one pound at a time. It's not as fast, but by the time you are finished you are a different person...one who has learned to live a new life and probably doesn't so much even think about the old one.

Great Britain recently decided to take the first approach, and put their deficit on the BiggestLoser program. I have more than a little bit of admiration for them, since they are protecting education and asking sacrifices from the wealthiest tiers of society in their austerity measures. At least they are tackling the problem, as opposed to sticking their heads in the sand.

But most economists agree that they are risking an incredible stagnation of their economy. Less debt perhaps, but also less jobs as they slash government spending mercilessly. Less deficit, but less quality of life for their voters. In such a case, another backlash will ensue...and the cycle begins again.

Closer to home I've been shaking my head at our own candidates. I like Deval Patrick, and I worked for state government so I am defensive of the importance of unions to keep politics from driving regulators' decisions. But honestly, why should ANYONE in state government be making more than $100,000 per year??? Don't feed me that talent attraction bullcrap...most people in state service like the stability, power, or ability to perform public service (or in the odd individual - like all three) that a state job brings. They aren't in it for the money...unless they like sitting on their hands and collecting a big paycheck for doing something the private sector wouldn't pay them for (ahem). Yes, our state is expensive to live in, but it ain't THAT expensive.

Which brings me to state pensions. Just as above, tell me why, when we're struggling to pay the state's bills, should ANYONE be collecting a pension over $80,000? I don't care HOW much you got paid when you were working...if you made that much you should have been able to save some of it.

Lest you think that those little rants means I'll be voting for Baker, you are high. That man has a basic math disability. He's going to "roll back taxes", improve education and infrastructure, and add jobs? Perhaps we are to believe in Santa Claus as well, Charlie? Pablum for the weak-minded masses that want their cake and to eat it too. The 21,000 jobs he keeps blaming Patrick for losing in the last quarter...most of those were government funded-census jobs...exactly the type of "spending" Baker wants to cut.

The are a TON of small, rational choices that could be made on a day-to-day basis that would improve state government without slashing and burning the services that our government supplies that make the quality of life in this state so good. I actually believe that Deval Patrick has begun making a lot of those, and if given the chance will make more. I do think that he's earned more time to see what more he can do.

I also think that he's gotta get out of the backpocket of some of these old-school, mafioso-type labor groups and start working with truly progressive, solution-focused leaders that understand that a union job doesn't mean a guaranteed paycheck for life, and that state and local resources cannot continue to support the burden of excessive pensions and health-care plans.

We all need to understand that reflexive self-protectionism doesn't generally make for coherent or effective public policy, or build a great nation. We can't handle our voting the way we tend to handle our dieting: all or nothing. Hiding in the pantry scarfing down the Halloween candy or living on tomato juice and Tabasco sauce.

And we can't keep talking about how we hate gridlock and we want more moderate, congenial politicians and then keep electing folks with a track record and political platform of ingrained, radical obstinance.

Fast food marketing is damaging and ubiquitous, but in the end we're the ones who put the crap in our mouths. Attack ads and political pablum might be misleading, but its our job in a democracy to push aside the cynicism and educate ourselves - challenge our own ingrained beliefs.

If we keep going down the path we're on, we'll keep sending an incredible population of fools, liars and buffoons into office, but we'll have no one to be angry at but ourselves.

a

*In case, like the author of that now-famous tea party rally sign you just don't get the irony of this statement, medicare IS a government-run program. If the government took its hands off it, retirees wouldn't get it.

**The entire study of psychology and evolutionary biology suggest that this statement is, while perhaps a great goal for the human species, at present day a big, fat lie.

Life is Nutz but GOOD

2010-10-26T05:38:00.001-07:00

Sorry it's been so long.

I had a few things to do :)

Over the last two weeks, I was truly challenged to the max. Everything from seating charts to radio interviews to pushing tickets on every G-d-damned person I met. Approaching sponsors, making speeches, trying to make sure that famous comedians felt appreciated, procuring and propping auction items, mediating inevitable disputes.

And I wasn't even the event coordinator. Imagine how bad SHE had it.

But honestly, I felt like this was make or break for TriROK. So I needed it to be a tremendous, resounding success.

So I freaked out. And then I got down to business.

Its so funny, at times like that, how quickly I resort to the "put your head down and bull through it" version of myself that has been my default for...ever. But its also tremendously instructive - like Ironman - in how sometimes to get something done you just have to swallow your fear, have faith, and just start doing it. Even if it seems absolutely impossible.

The Life is Nutz Comedy Benefit for the TriROK Foundation was - by all standards - a smashing success.

Billy Gardell and I backstage filming a clip for Life is Nutz.

Rob Benton performing his soundcheck...he was the surprise guest who blew EVERYONE away!

Rob admiring the VIP digs before the show...

Life is Nutz gear being sold to raise money for our charity.

The Nutz up on stage: (left to right) Keith Kober, Joe Turcotte, Kevin Brown, Bill Beers.

The TriROK Board before the show...

The comedians were SO funny and Billy Gardell brought the HOUSE down. He is one talented guy for sure. Turns out he's also ridiculously down to earth, sweet, and self-effacing. I hope he's truly proud of how far he's come. Not everyone would remember their roots so well after they'd earned their own series on CBS.

We had an AMAZING surprise for our audience when Rob Benton of America's Got Talent opened the show for the comedians with a couple of incredible numbers that simply blew people away. I'm so glad that I took the chance and reached out to him after we saw him last spring up in Portsmouth. I still can't believe that he agreed to do so much...he's such a talent. I hope to get some video clips of his set on here soon.

Rob also ended up being the highlight of our silent auction. He'd originally donated a 45-minute private concert and due to INSANE bidding wars, ended up donating TWO 2-HOUR concerts, earning us about $2k in the process.

THANK YOU ROB!!!

The final numbers aren't in, but we made somewhere in the neighborhood of $15,000 dollars. We had over 400 people attend out of the 500+ that held tickets. Our silent auction was incredibly successful. Maybe most importantly, our web traffic skyrocketed, our message got out, partnerships were built, and we can now move forward into our FamiliesTRI Initiative full-speed ahead.

I probably lost about 5 years off my life from stress, but assuming it just FEELS that way, seeing the final result was more than worth it.

I guess, though, what struck me most about the whole thing was how many people came up to me and said some version of, "Congratulations. I don't know how you did it...I never could." I remember getting a lot of that post-IMWI too.

It makes me chuckle and feel sad all at once. I chuckle because the notion that I am capable of doing anything more than anyone else is a joke. I feel sad, because it seems that so many people really don't know what they are capable of.

If everyone understood just how much they could accomplish by taking the risks to reach out for their dreams and what they believe in, to push themselves out of their comfort zones, to accept that sometimes struggle and stress are as much a part of ultimate happiness as peace and comfort are...the problems of this world would be solved.

I'm looking forward to doing just that all year long as TriROK launches its FamiliesTRI program, and helping about 8 families to do the same.

Thanks to everyone, who came, who bought tickets but couldn't come, who wanted to come but couldn't and donated anyway, who sponsored, who contributed to our silent auction, and who bid. We are MOST grateful to the Life is Nutz Company for hooking us up with our wonderful comedians, Jack Lynch, George MacDonald, Jessica Casciano, and the incomparable, Billy Gardell.

Looking forward to doing it again next year. Even bigger and even better.

a

Auditions

2010-10-14T16:58:00.001-07:00

So it's official - I am smarter than an orthopedic surgeon. I mean you probably all already knew that, but now its been confirmed by the all-knowing MRI.

No orthopedic surgeon should be offended by that statement given that I am simply so damn smart. To be a little less smart still makes you really, really smart.

FINE! It's really my PCP and PT who are smarter than the surgeon. I'm still really smart too. I swear.

Anyway, tipped bones my ass...MRI showed the ganglion cysts that I got sent there for in the first place. Cysts that can be removed. So HA! HA!!!!!!!!

Wait.

I'm saying ha!? For surgery?

Hmmmm.

I am tired of numb, painful feet. I would like my brain to be numb sometimes, or maybe my butt from sitting on it all day if that would ever happen, but I don't like my feet numb. At. All.

But said numbness speaks to the problematic nature of these little cystie buggers...they are sitting right on the nerve. So surgery means poking around that nerve.

Did I mention I don't like numb feet? So I'd, um, really like to not have them FOREVER!?!?!?

I'm now auditioning surgeons. No doctor is too illustrious for these ankles. Don't even bother applying unless you have multiple celebrity athlete clients who extol your surgenic abilities.

Once I find said surgeon, scheduling remains the great mystery. Do it now and have to take off till after the holidays? Or train through, crush my spring races, and then have it at the start of next summer, when my training traditionally screeches to a halt anyway?

Decisions, decisions.

Either way, at least there is a plan of action.

I like action. At least better than achy ankles.

a

Quasimodo and me...

2010-10-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here with a glass of wine, having eaten every carb available to me today. My husband is laying on the couch talking to me, passive agressively recruiting my attention...clearly unsuccessfully. Why would I pay attention to him when I can think about myself???

Poor, poor man.

Pretty soon he'll find himself married to a 400 pound alcoholic...who still doesn't listen.

Shhhh...don't tell him ;)

OK, actually I'm down a couple of pounds, probably owing to the stress of grant deadlines, IRS filing deadlines, a small fundraiser that happens to be coming up, etc. And I only drink every third night. And I listen.

Sometimes.

About a month ago I started working out one-on-one with Jeremee Norman of B&S Sports Science in Salem. I'm lucky to know a plethora of amazing trainers like Jeremee and Rob Gagnon who runs training at the MAC in Manchester, and yet until recently, I've failed to make consistent strength training the priority above running, biking, and swimming that it needs to be when the structure of my body boosts Quasimodo's self-esteem.

The first two weeks with J were torture. Not because it was hard or I was sore, but because I was just so damn inept. I mean - yes - inept is something I am used to being...but not to this extent. Example while doing side lunges onto a bosu:

Jeremee: No - I said butt back.

Me: My butt is back.

Jeremee: No - you're leaning forward and doing all the work with your quads. Engage your glutes.

Me: Like this?

Jeremee: No. You just did the same thing again.

Repeat 10 more times. Jeremee goes and gets a stability ball and tells me to touch it with my butt when I lunge.

After 5 tries, I find the messaging system to my glutes, touch it with my butt and struggle up.

15 minutes. One correct rep completed.

Oy.

So the rebuilding is slow, but it has begun. Now Psychofitt has re-started, and I feel like a new woman doing it. Instead of compensating my way through it, I'm doing most things right - I'm actually using muscles on the back of my body!!! I'm still training with J once a week in addition, and I can already feel just how much more solid I am.

Given that I was pretty damn strong using only half my body, you can imagine how fun it is to discover what I can do using the whole thing! My hip isn't hurting anymore, and my speed is doing well on the bike and the run, although I have ZERO - as in NADA, ZILCH, 0 - endurance.

I also got my new Vibram Bikilas!!!! They ROCK!!!

You can see that the bottoms are WAY more protective than my old ones. These are clearly adapted and feel like a really responsive, super-light racing flat...but with no heel cushioning it helps me drill a more forward form. I'm only using them on the treadmill and track for speedwork and drills, but I LOVE them.

Meanwhile, for road runs and smooth double track runs (thanks to the ankles - more on them later - there are no more real trail runs) I got a new pair of orthotics made by the incomparable Sara Thatcher. I love my old ortho's from Danvers Orthotics Lab (and NO ONE is more reasonable than Dan Bishop - at $85 a pop for a pair you can afford to replace them regularly) but the emphasis on the arch post was not accounting for the worsening situation with my ankles. Hopefully these will help straighten out a bunch of issues and if they do then they were MORE than worth the investment.

Hell - they're just worth it for the hope.

Had my ankle MRI today and f/u appt with the ortho next week. My range of motion in flexion is decreasing, pain is increasing (not running but just walking and standing), and the feeling of impingement is worsening. Time to find out what the aliens popping out the sides of my ankles actually are.

FYI - that's what the MRI tech actually called them today as in, "let's put the marker right there - on top of your ankle alien."

Nice.

I'm teaching my bike classes at Seaside again this year, which gives me cause to drag the gear over and join up in Janda and Phil's classes myself. Actually looking forward to it, if not to publicly sharing the state of my watts. It's helping me to finally get my head out of my ass and start figuring out what my race schedule will be for next year...which help me keep my head out of my ass from day to day.

Speaking of racing, this weekend will be watching the best in the world at Kona. Personally rooting for Bree-Wee and Andy Potts. Neither are even close to the favorites, but then again I was always an underdog kind of gal.

Also rooting closer to home for my friends Melissa and Michelle running the Chicago Marathon. They are going to kick ass and I'm very proud of them both - Melissa for getting so f'ing fast, and Michelle for coming back after a horrible car/bike crash this summer.

Go fast and far ladies. I'll be with you in spirit.

a

Dour and Sour

2010-09-21T15:25:00.000-07:00

I am not feeling inspired to write right now.

I feel like every post I've made recently has centered around:

a) bitching
b) whining
c) moaning
d) lecturing
e) all of the above

This post will not represent a change. If you are a client of mine a small disclaimer - none of this applies to you. It's funny how a little professionalism and some dispassionate, scientific application of knowledge can do that ;)

I keep starting more cheerful or thoughtful posts in my head as I go about my life, but then my passion for transferring it to the page fades along with the time I have to do so. I guess that is the way it goes sometimes.

I've become a bit of a sour puss with my old training partners and athletic-y friends. When you are wrapped up in a goal, the elemental struggle for a race outcome, every moment of training seems so important. You eat, sleep, talk, and breathe workouts. You recite your stats incessantly to everyone around you no matter how marginally they care or listen. Your facebook posts revolve around workout stats that no one else gives a shit about and yet they are all you can think about. You obsess over numbers and nutrients and equipment and training plans.

You bore people on blogs with all of the above ;)

That's been my life for the better part of the last decade.

God - now I don't know how you stood me.

I can't do the races I want to...nevermind that there are plenty I COULD do. I'm still too busy having a temper tantrum over the ones I can't to do THOSE. I mean, I AM getting over it if slowly. And I've even started to legitimately be able to say I'm turning a sage corner on the whole thing. But...not completely.

I've decided that I am not doing my fall marathon. It's not worth it, nor even really possible at this point. I mean its POSSIBLE. Anything is possible. But I'm not doing it.

And if you tell me that maybe if I tried "X" then I could "probably" still run one of them, I will "probably" hit you in the mouth.

So now I don't want to hear about anybody else's successful athletic pursuits. Your facebook posts about your latest PRs or workout of the day irk me no end. I don't want to hear about your wattage, your pace, your miles, the structure of your workout...unless you are my client of course. But they are the ones who resist telling me!

FYI - again, as long as you are not my client - I'm perfectly fine with your athletic failures...misery loves company and all that.

Don't get me wrong - I know how evil this is...and I try to consciously change my thinking. I try to be happy for my friends and training partners and their successes. I try to listen attentively to their training concerns. But in the back of my head, I'm muttering in dark tones.

Apparently, other people are like this too - I'm not the only one. Two facebook "friends" have unfriended me this week due to my repeated posts promoting the trirok benefit (FYI you can buy your tickets at www.trirok.org :). But I don't like them like I like myself. So instead of understanding, to them I say,

"Go fuck yourself. You're not my fucking friends anyway. Douche bags."

Jesus...its all for a good cause. Block my posts if you don't like them! Half my other friends already do I'm sure ;)

a

Stunning...and so close to home.

2010-09-17T14:55:00.000-07:00

Why You Need to Do This...

2010-09-15T16:43:00.000-07:00

I hate bugging my friends for stuff. I am not a salesman. I also hate spending my time making flyers like this:

My friend Greg bought tickets, but first he emailed me, "if I buy tickets, will you stop spamming me?"

The answer is...yes. But not until then.

And here is why.

Today I sat for about 45 minutes and reviewed an application from a family applying to TriROK's FamiliesTRI Initiative. They are a very fit family, all except for one of their children. The parents have plead and cajoled. They've tried to set an example. They've bribed. They've threatened.

Nothing has worked.

In the last year, they've watched their child gain 38 pounds and the concern of their pediatrician who recommended them to our program. Everyone knows where the current path will lead. High blood pressure, cholesterol, pre-diabetes...the list is long and unhappy.

The parents are desperate. Their child's life is at stake. Yet their desperation has had the opposite effect to what they desired...if anything they've witnessed him dig in in opposition. So they've come to us.

The mom is not a triathlete. So she got her child to agree to do this program with her. Huge first step, but not a guarantee.

Assuming they enter the program, the rubber begins to meet the road. I need to untangle the motivations from the actions and find a way to make them both successful - her at supporting and encouraging her child, and the child at trying something new and scary, when there is probably resentment towards the skinny athletes in the family. It's complex chemistry. Use a little common sense, and mix in the child's interests. Help parents to learn how best to encourage without backfiring. Separate loved ones so that they can come back together stronger.

Coming up with an initial training plan after interviewing and accepting a family like this one, takes a minimum of 5 hours. After that, swim lessons happen once a week with an extra session for practice. Bike handling courses and group rides start, nutritional counseling occurs right away and follow up soon after, cooking classes, and track workouts, and group clinics occur monthly. Free equipment is provided, insurance is covered, and these families pay for nothing.

In all, this costs about $3,500 per family. And I guarantee, GUARANTEE, that their child is a healthy, self-confident athlete by the end of the program. Maybe more important, parents and children will have forged a crucial bond - the one of struggling through together and finding success after adversity. Their lifestyles will evolve TOGETHER.

I love doing this. I don't want to intimate otherwise. But we dig deeply into local families lives, turn them around, and that takes time. And effort. I've nearly destroyed my own livelihood to do this. Others have donated precious facility time, equipment, products, expertise. Now you have a chance to help.

This economy sucks. But $45 is less than dinner at the 99, Outback, or Bugaboo Creek. It's less than a pair of jeans, or for the larger vehicles out there - a tank of gas. For $45 you get four amazing comedians to make you laugh your ass off, desserts, amazing auction items, and my eternal, undying gratitude.

If you can do it, buy a ticket. If you can't...send what you can. The sooner we sell our tickets, the sooner we can start funding the FamiliesTRI Initiative. So get your tickets NOW. At www.trirok.org.

The way I see it, we're turning laughter around here. The New York Times reported that obese children are 60% more likely to be taunted - laughed at - on the playground, regardless of their income, social skills, race, or academic prowress. Afterwards, they are far less likely to participate in active games or sports.

Let's use laughter to help them instead. Let's make this program the best we can by raising the necessary funds to make it happen. It doesn't take much money...but it does take you.

a

Shifting Ground

2010-09-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

I feel like there is a major shift occuring in my life. Most things are wonderful, and I mostly welcome its new directions, but it's disconcerting to find change happening beyond your will. Or maybe because your will in one direction has surpassed your will in another.

A few folks have asked me recently what I'm training for..and I've answered honestly. Nothing.

It's been five and a half years since I could say that. I feel slightly lost as a result, and trying to find my footing training day in and out, not for a race, but for the optimal interest of my body and mind. I'm reminded by a slogan at B&S Fitness, "fitness is not a destination." Maybe not, but for the last five years of my life, I have at least had a series of pitstops to help guide my fitness along.

Don't get me wrong, I will race again. Not sure what distance or disciplines, but I'll race. But I'm not signing up for anything else unless I'm sure I can accomplish my goals in a way that is safe for my body. And I have a long road to getting my body in the best shape it can be - not for running, or biking, or swimming - but for living a quality, fit existence for the next 50+ years in spite of the cards that I've been dealt physiologically.

It's not a bad hand, if I play it wisely. The structure of my bones and joints might prevent me from going as far or as fast as I'd like, but they don't prevent me from doing what I love at a basic level. In some ways, the creativity and knowledge they force me to acquire to train at all has benefitted me immensely.

But my fall marathon is clearly not happening, and if I had to guess, I don't think I have another open marathon ever in my future. Ironman? Probably not either. But I'll leave that door open for now.

Maybe just because I can't bear to close it.

The old adage that whenever God closes a door he opens a window could be restated: sometimes God closes a door so that you'll throw the windows open and air out your life. I really believe that I'm meant to transition for a while from the fairly selfish pursuit of racing - which is mostly ego driven in my case, to focusing more on helping other people find the footing and self-assurance to become active and healthy.

Coaching my TriLife athletes is incredibly rewarding. But I am also so looking forward to coaching the TriROK families who are applying the program. As I read the applications, I can feel all the hopes and fears pouring out. Parents desperate to intervene in their children's weight gain. Kids hoping to get their parents active and involved. Moms concerned that they won't be able to keep up with their kids soon. Dads wondering if WE can get their children to participate when they feel they've exhausted all other options.

I want to say to them - I get it. But you and you family are going to be FINE. It's hard, you have every right to be afraid, but I know you can do it. I know, because if I did it, if all the TriROK'ers to go before you did it, you can do it too. We will make SURE that you do. I will make sure that you do.

Their lives are about to shift. It will be challenging and sometimes scary, but so much for the better. And I know a little something about that feeling.

Aside from the coaching aspect, this whole TriROK think has been an enormous learning curve and stressor to me. For God's sake, I'm responsible for selling 1500 tickets to a fundraiser, securing sponsors, feting (sorry - can't figure out how to make the little hat about the "e" in "feting" in blogger) famous comedians, and wrangling fantasmagorical auction items. Me - the person who forgot to secure chairs for her own wedding until two days before. IRS applications, grant applications, community outreach - a lot of that stuff I did as an environmental scientist. But PR? Event planning? Race management? Building an organization from the ground up? Not so much.

Yikes. Very scary.

I'm incredibly lucky to have a group of people willing to take this stuff on right alongside me. It's not a journey that I'd want to take alone. But it's been incredibly GOOD for me to get pushed so far outside my boundaries.

I always tell people, the most important thing about doing an Ironman, and why I wouldn't trade it even to prevent the hip replacement I'm eventually going to need, is that is makes you aware of the fact that you can truly do anything to which you set your mind. You can't necessarily do it the way you envisioned it, or do it better than others, but you CAN do it. Even if just the thought of trying makes you want to puke. The key is that setting your mind part. You can't allow even a bit of wiggle room. You. Will. Do. It.

Even if it kills you.

Or just gives you mild nerve damage.

I watched my little guy go through some tough stuff this week. He's kind of the odd man out at school because he didn't go to the same preschool as the other boys in his class. He's also a physical guy who's got to go through the tough process of figuring out how to make friends with his words and not by wrestling. Not so easy for a super-smart, socially aware guy with just a few less words than a lot of his peers.

Last night at the school dinner I watched him get rebuffed by several groups of little guys in his class when he asked them to play or tried to get involved in the games they had going. He was getting really sad, and felt lost, and all I wanted to do was scoop him up and take him home and call his oldest, bestest friends to come hang with him. I was also afraid that he was going to resort to trying to bully his way in, which would likely backfire. But instead I just gave him a hug, told him I was really proud of how tenacious he was being, and to keep trying. He did, and he finally broke in on the playground and started playing with a nice big pack of boys from his class.

He's going to be ok.

The new TriROK families are going to be ok.

I'm going to be ok.

In fact, we're all gonna come out of this better than we were before. It's gonna be an interesting journey though...

a

The Big Biking Duh's

2010-09-09T14:22:00.000-07:00

I have a bunch of posts rambling around in my head, but they're long and I don't think I'll have time to put them on the page for awhile. Why I've chosen to prioritize this one is somewhat beyond even me, but I've seen enough almost accidents in the last few days that I just had to pipe up.

Biking on roads with texting drivers, harried commuters, and teenage daredevils is dangerous enough. Cyclists really don't need to go out of their way to make things worse.

Don't get me wrong - as a cyclist, I am appalled by the behavior of drivers on a daily basis. And I think that cars need to defer to bikes, since one kills and the other merely dents. That being said, there are some exceptionally stupid trends I see bikers employing and aside from the upside of Darwin's law, I'd like to see them go away.

First - taunting cars is stupid. You cannot win this game. Yes - maybe they were rude. Maybe you're sick and tired of getting squeezed and honked at...but there is no wisdom in playing chicken with a 4,000 pound SUV. Examples - banging on cars when they get too close (not good to startle a driver since the documented instinctual impulse is to serve right), wearing a cycling shirt that says, "cars are for dummies" (funny, but road rage is all too real, so no thanks), flipping off poor drivers even when they have little kids in the car.

If a driver endangers you, you should take down the license number and call the cops. Period. To do otherwise might feel good, but it's foolish. There are crazy people out there. Don't fuck with them when they're driving a loaded vehicle.

Second - and this one's for my husband - get rid of the FUCKING HEADPHONES! If you can't workout without music, then go to the gym. FYI, you're pretty lame if you can't motivate yourself without tunes. Yes - it's helpful. So use it inside, or on the trails, or whatever. But not when seconds make the difference between life and death. Being able to hear approaching cars is key when they are coming up from behind. It matters for turns, it matters for avoiding road hazards, it matters because you can also hear when they are getting TOO close. Which in a world of texters happens all the time.

Third - and I think one that people really don't get - is riding the wrong way. We run the wrong way on the road so we can see cars coming. Which makes sense when you are moving at running speed and maneuvering on two feet. But here's the deal. When you ride on the right side of the road, an overtaking car can see you, see oncoming traffic, and adjust their speed to swing around you when they have the space. Your pacing decisions don't matter. Cars are used to passing things on the right when going in the same directions, so neurologically drivers manage this better.

When you are going the wrong way, however, you can't tell when the car coming at you has a clear path to swing around you, or if there is a vehicle coming the other way and forcing them to stay close to you. Staying close to bikers freaks drivers out. You might know you have plenty of room, but they don't. Freaked out drivers do stupid things.

You move at the speed of a (slow) car. You have to act like one. Ride on the right side of the road. Period. Unless you live in England. :)

Four - duh...wear a helmet. Nuf' said.

a

Latest Coach-y Blog About CGT and PMET

2010-08-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

Check out the post and get your inner geek on...

a

Unplanned Racing Usually Goes Awry...

2010-08-30T06:08:00.000-07:00

As I turned on my computer to write this down on the last day of vacation, I had to seriously fight the urge to open up some work files and start making the necessary edits…but I resisted.

Must. Stay. In. The. Moment.

This was a relatively peaceful vacation, as far as Phippen vacations go. I am REALLY proud of my husband, who’s made a huge effort to slow down this week and move at slightly less than the speed of light. We had such a fun time with our friends who came down for a short visit, and I’ve gotten to hang a bit with my cousin and his beautiful family, who are gracious hosts AND a good time.

In fact I was going through this amazing book of work by my Cousin Greg’s architectural firm when it occurred to me…I could breathe again. I could look at the pictures, read the words, and that was all. Vacation mission accomplished.
But it wouldn’t be complete without some deep thought on my part, right? ;)

I’ve run pretty much every day we’ve been down here, except for Friday when I subbed in a long bike, and Wednesday, when the weather finally broke and I couldn’t sacrifice the precious sunlight to working out. All were short runs of 30-50 minutes. All were supposed to be easy jaunts designed just to get moving and burn a few of the millions of calories I’d consumed.

The plan was working until Thursday, when I left early for a nice, easy 45 minute run. About 10 minutes in, I was jogging along, probably in the neighborhood of 9 minute miles, enjoying the view. Then ponytail girl passes me.

Her breath tells me she’s working, but her bouncy hair and vertical gait infuriate me. I have a hair complex for SURE. The best way to make me crazy is to bounce by me, swinging your Breck Girl hair as you run.

I’ll get you BITCH. Me and my lousy, mousy, graying, stringy hair.

So I shadow her for a bit, strategizing. The worst thing ever is to pass someone and be unable to complete the run without being re-passed. Once I passed I’d have to be running scared, since this wasn’t a race and I couldn’t look back to see where she was without looking REALLY lame.

OK…yes – I know I’m lame to begin with, just for getting caught up in this. But SHE doesn’t have to know that.

Based on the geography I was pretty sure that she’d started from around where I had. And there’s a natural turn around that most of the runners out there use, so I figured our distances of roughly 5 miles were probably the same. So I knew if I passed her I had to hold her pace plus some for close to 4 miles. Seemed that we were running about 8:30’s at that point, with me drafting her. Totally doable.

So I made the pass. She made that sideways, “oh – so you’re back” glance at me. I wasn’t breathing hard yet, so I smiled, keeping my mouth shut as testament to the fact that I wasn’t working and she was, so she might as well relax and accept defeat.

She did no such thing.

In a stunning breach of “of course this isn’t a race” etiquette, about a minute later she passes me again, HAMMERING.

Damn.

I didn’t want to work THAT hard. But now I was all in. So I picked up the pace and glued myself to her heels. It was on.

Clearly, the gantlet had been thrown. Never mind that she was a bit chubby and had almost as bad biomechanics as I do. Never mind that I’m a bit chubby, sliding down the backside into middle age, and had even worse biomechanics than she did. It was the Duel in the Sun II, Kara G. at Boston, etc. etc.

We came to the turn around and she kept going. Motherfucker.

Now I HAD to pass her again, so that when I turned around she saw that I’d just gotten to my mid-way point, not that I’d given up. I hit the gas. Now we’re running uphill and I pass her around a puddle in the high 7’s, which is not a place I enjoy being, certainly not for 2.75 miles+ - what I had left if we both turned around NOW.

I carried on about 400 yards more and then turned at the Jaws bridge, which seemed like as good a place as any. Maybe I was wrong about the geography and she was running home. Maybe her run was almost over, she’d keep going, and I could collapse into a nice steady 10 minute mile as soon as she was out of sight.

Nope!

I turned, ran past her, and about 30 seconds later heard her back on my heels.

FUCK.

OK, I’m old but I’m wise. I slowed up just slightly and let her pass me again. Then I slid onto her heels. Just you try to break me, bitch. There’s always a headwind going back into town so she’d have to WORK to hold pace.

I stuck to her like glue, but I couldn’t help but be shocked at how ridiculous I was being. This poor girl, probably 20 years old, and I’m calling her a bitch in my head. I’m ruining my run. I am NOT enjoying this run. I’m not enjoying any part of it. Not me hating this girl, not the feeling of bile rising in my throat, not the ache of my ankles or the throb of my hip. I’m fighting for every breath and I have NO idea why.

By any real runner’s standards, we are both pretty much JOGGING.

There’s not even a fucking finish line. What if this girl lives on the other side of the fucking island???

Shit.

We keep running. Bikers laugh at us because it’s clear what’s going on. I make a decision as we near the sea wall that marks about .3 miles to the house where we are staying. I will pass her, turn off, and run home. I’ll have my victory by default. I start to pick up speed to make the pass, when suddenly she veers off onto a street to our left, slows to a jog and stops at the first house.

OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT IS SO UNFAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Apparently, that’s the hazard of running footraces with no pre-established finish line. She beat me to the punch of bailing. I lost. She won.

I still had to run .3 miles.

I kept running and headed down to the beach to stew where crashing breakers could cover my muttered epithets.

WTF on SO many levels!

Now I grant you, it’s a funny story in its silliness, and I had to and did laugh at myself for the whole shebang.

But on my bike ride the next day I contemplated the experience and how bothered I still was. I am so driven by competitive forces but I am such an average athlete that I am doomed to be disappointed and frustrated by the new lot that I’ve been handed since I can’t simply train myself into the ground anymore and squeeze what little ability I have from the stone that is my body.

And let’s face it – I was hitting the ceiling of (ability)x(age) before that anyway. So I was doomed to be frustrated anyway, if my measure of success was who I could beat.

However, a bit more subtle but just as true, was the fact that even if I raced “myself”, i.e. sought the ever-more-elusive “PR”, I’ve been heading down the road of burnout and body meltdown. Eventually, you just can’t go faster than you did before. You can’t squeeze any more blood from that stone, especially a rapidly aging stone, Dara Torres not withstanding.

Especially not when in spite for being told you can’t do exactly whatever you want to with your body anymore, you throw up your hands, eat crap, hardly workout, drink prodigious amounts of alcohol, and party on vacation.

Bobby McGee talks about the evolution of runners from beginners who are just happy to run further and faster than they have before, to competitors, to teachers who have transcended the quantitative aspects of their running and simply take joy in the act and seek to help others find that same joy

Um...

While it’s clear where I should be heading, instead I’m running screaming back in the other direction. Kind of. But not really. I get that I’ve gotta do things differently for this poor body of mine. But I’m not at that mental place where the competition doesn’t count at all for me anymore.

I guess I’m in triathlon purgatory. But what is my penance?

Ok – it’s not as gloomy as all that. Clearly, I could just spend more time on my swimming, bring my biking back to the levels it should be, and I could manage to be a decent age-grouper for a while more. But that thought just sucks. I’m not sure why, but it does.

There was a fabulous story in the Globe Magazine recently by Neil Swidey, entitled, “What We Lose When Everybody Wins.” Along with a really well balanced analysis of how screwed up kids sports are these days (next post will address that one) he offered this point.

“We need to get to the point where a loss is seen for the insignificant thing it is. But we won’t get there by protecting kids from any exposure to it.

Shields says that it’s worth remembering that, at its root, the word competition actually means “to seek or strive with.” True competition, as he sees it, describes striving with your opponent, fighting hard to draw the best out of each other, not simply hoping for a win regardless of circumstances. That’s how Chris Evert, when asked to name the favorite match of her career, could select an excruciating Wimbledon loss to Martina Navratilova. The two archrivals had pushed each other to the max, inspiring peak performances, and that was enough for Evert.

That, says Shields, is true competition, as opposed to the nasty, hostile form of competition, which he calls ‘decompetition,’ the variety mostly likely behind the negative outcomes identified in the research. ‘Great accomplishment requires great effort, and a strong desire to win can be a powerful engine for effort,’ he has written. ‘The problem isn’t with the quantity of the desire to win. The issue is why the person wants to win.’

If your opponent trips and falls during the race and you’re happy to get the win that way, you’re in it for the wrong reasons.”

So....what if you’re pissed your competition beat you to the bailout?

a

THERE'S NOWHERE TO RUN!

2010-08-17T09:02:00.000-07:00

For me, literally. For you, figuratively.

I've got you cornered. I know who you are.

Ok, not really. I only know about 50% of my readers and I barely know where I live, let alone where they do.

But pretend like I do, and do as I say anyway.

And what I say is: you've got tickets to buy.

As most of you know, I've taken on the role of interim Executive Director of the TriROK Foundation. If you didn't then you do now ;) What that means is that I do the work while it doesn't pay, and once it does, we'll hire a professional and I go back to doing what I do best, which is coaching and harrassing my friends for non-fundraising reasons like coffee and bar hopping. You're gonna help make that happen!

This 501(c)(3) charity's mission is to eradicate childhood obesity one family at a time. We do that by working intensely with local kids and their parents to prepare them for a mini-sprint, family team triathlon. This involves free coaching, equipment, swim lessons, bike safety clinics, nutritional counseling, body-image counseling, and mentoring from families who have already gone through the TriROK programs. A lot of these kids and their parents come in to our programs overweight, with poor self-image, suffering from illnesses such as Type 2 Diabetes, and unable to safely swim or ride a bike. They leave self-confident athletes who possess the tools and family culture to stay active and healthy for a lifetime.

As my friends and readers, this means that you have to help out by buying tickets to our fall comedy benefit. The good news is that you are going to have a lot of fun doing it.

The show will be October 23rd at 7pm at the North Shore Music Theater in Beverly. No seat is more than 50 feet from the stage, where four amazing comedians will be trying their best to make you laugh until you cry. We have:

Headliner Billy Gardell: Originally from Pittsburg, working class comedian Billy Gardell started early in stand up and was headlining some clubs before he was legal at the door. His acting career has been on the rise with regular guest appearances on hit prime time shows like “My Name is Earl” (NBC), “The Practice” (ABC), “Yes Dear” (CBS), “Monk” (USA), “Judging Amy” (CBS), and “Gary the Rat” (Spike), as well as a co-starring role in the critically acclaimed FX series “Lucky.” This September, Billy will be starring in a new comedy series, “Mike and Molly” on CBS. His stand up show is a powerhouse with grounded, down-to-earth stories on his rough childhood, wild adolescence, and new family life hitting a strong chord with audiences, and executed with the skill of a master craftsman.

George MacDonald is an accomplished writer, actor and comedian. A regular on VoiceAmerica, he has performed with such stars as Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock, Dane Cook, and Dennis Miller, just to name a few. George is also a playwright, some of his works include: At The Funny Factory, Waiting for Whitey, and Whistling Past The Graveyard. George is a member of The Dramatist Guild of America, Actors Equity Association, Screen Actors Guild and The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists.

Local comic, Joey Carroll, was discovered by AKA Productions while performing at Los Angeles’ prestigious Improv and immediately booked to bring much needed laughter to our troops around the world. Most recently Joey was a stand-out act at the Boston Comedy Festival and was selected to perform at the Best of the Fest showcase. While performing with Bobcat Goldthwait during the Montreal Comedy Festival he was cast to appear with Bobcat in Comedy Central’s Pulp Comics. Joey’s clean observational comedy makes him a perfect act for just about any venue.

Jack Lynch is a 16-year veteran of the Boston comedy scene who has toured all over the United States and parts of Canada, entertaining crowds with his earthy style, great impressions, and clean but sarcastic view of the world. Lynch has performed at all the major Boston venues as well as at the Mohegan Sun Casino in Connecticut, The Borgata Casino in Atlantic City, The Improv in Miami Beach, The Punchline in Atlanta, Georgia, and the Comedy Works in Montreal, Canada, sharing the stage with comedy legends such as Lenny Clarke, Stephen Wright and Damon Wayons.

Holy cow. On top of all that, you get dessert-y appetizers (OK - that's an oxymoron but I can't spell hor d'whatevers), a cash bar (we can't afford the alcohol some of you people can put away ;), and an awesome silent and live auction of some UNFORGETTABLE items. You won't want to miss it.

General admission is only $45 and VIP seating in the first few rows is $75. That's cheaper than a standard comedy show in Boson AND all the proceeds go to TriROK's work. Little disclaimer - we think that North Shore Music Theater is going to require parking to be $10 a car. We are expecting to sell out, so tickets will likely not be available at the door. That means don't wait!

You can pay by check by sending your email order to info@trirok.org, or you can order online at www.lifeisnutz.net/lifeisnutzevents.aspx. The first 50 people to purchase tickets will be entered to win a pair of Patriots tickets - a $338 face value. Those are darn good odds!

FYI we are also still looking for unique and coveted auction items, as well as corporate sponsorships. I've attached our sponsorship levels to this email. Like Bartells and James, we thank you for your support ;)

a

Forty-five in the Fields

2010-08-13T07:29:00.000-07:00

First, thanks.

For all the emails and calls and texts. For the advice, and stories, and fightin' words. I'd be lying if a lot of my last post wasn't desperately looking for exactly that. I wanted to hear two things, 1) how badly you all felt for me, and 2) how I'd surely come back stronger and faster. You amply supplied both.

Unfortunately, as some wise guy they nicknamed "the Bhudda" once said, "if you must be told something you will not know it."

Know-it-all.

I didn't run for three days. I didn't get up early and head out before Pete and the kids were awake like I usually would on vacation, or head down to the gym after they went to bed. I just...didn't run. I did hike, and bike, and whitewater raft, and swim, and go on roller coasters...but I didn't run.

I know he gets how bad this is, because Pete never mentioned it once. Normally the first words out of his mouth in the morning would be, "what's your workout plan?" for scheduling purposes. But not so much as a peep.

Finally, this morning, I casually threw out there, "I think I should probably get a run in today."

"OK," he promptly took the kids and took off for a petting farm. He'd obviously had a plan and was just waiting for the inevitable to happen.

My plan was to do at least 5 miles, so I figured on 22 minutes out the mountain road (all downhill) and come back (all uphill). As I was heading out I had two goals - 1) to see how far I could get before anything hurt, and 2) to see if I could just do this everyday..."this" being just run. NO rhyme, no reason, no huge goal, just 45 minutes of running.

I actually had to laugh about 5 minutes in...I was so gimpy from NOT running the last few days. The downhill was too much and too long for me so I just tried to stay smooth and get in a rhythmn with good turnover and shorter strides. My pelvic position makes ideal downhill running form near impossible for me, so the key is to minimize impact instead.

There's nothing like a good, steep downhill to make you look forward to 20 minutes of good, steep uphill. Then I could really get lost in my thoughts. My hamstring insertion bothered me as usual (old leftover from my bike crash) but not enough to
interupt my enjoyment of the fields and farms and mountains.

OK then, this is what I get. I get to run. I just don't get to run very far. At least until they perfect that performance hip replacement. But as I was running, I was thinking about how much more devastated I would be if I could never again do this. I was also thinking about all the friends who had written about the moment they'd been told exactly that. One lost part of his knee in an accident. Another went bone-on-bone in his early twenties. Another had ripped muscle clean from bone playing softball and had never even been able walk up stairs normally since her surgery.

I wondered how they felt when they read my post, lamenting being limited to runs under 10 miles. I'd be PISSED if I were them. I'd probably find a high horse to climb on. Instead they wrote to commiserate, not tell me how lucky I should feel. They just wanted me to know they understood. They were there if I needed.

Kevin Reen wrote me that this would make me a better coach. He was right. I just got a hard lesson in hubris, in perspective, and have several more lessons in training adjustment to look forward to.

More importantly, I think it might make me a better friend. I certainly realized I have plenty of folks to learn from in that department.

a

The Definition of Pain

2010-08-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

Crushed is a word we throw around too easily these days.

Merriam Webster Main Entry: crush
Pronunciation: \ˈkrush\
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English crusshen, from Anglo-French croissir, croistre, of Germanic origin; akin to Middle Low German krossen to crush
Date: 15th century
transitive verb
1 a : to squeeze or force by pressure so as to alter or destroy structure b : to squeeze together into a mass
2 : hug, embrace
3 : to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding
4 a : to suppress or overwhelm as if by pressure or weight b : to oppress or burden grievously c : to subdue completely
5 : crowd, push
6 archaic : drink

So I thought long and hard as to whether I should use the word to describe my current state of being. Ultimately, however, I feel that I am squarely in the middle of usage (4).

No offense to my friends but I feel like I lost one today. I feel like I just put my dog to sleep, I feel like large pieces of my world view have disintegrated. I've experienced worse days for SURE, but in an odd way this ranks top three in spectacularly stunning ambush. Am I being dramatic? Yes. Overdramatic? I guess your judgement of that that depends on whether, like me, the sanity and rightness of your world hangs from the laces of your running shoes.

Let's just get out of the way all the little jokes about the limitless failures of my biomechanics. They just aren't funny anymore. If I hear one more person say, "you're just too young to be in this bad a shape," or "what do you expect from putting those kind of miles on YOUR body?" or "what's the LATEST injury?"...well, they might get a bit more than they bargained for in response. Like, fuck you, you dumbass motherfucker. You can feel sorry for me or you can shut the fuck up.

Because I might just freak out on you if you don't. I might freak out on you anyway. Especially if you tell me you're heading out for your latest 20-miler on your quest to qualify for Boston.

I went in to see my orthopedic surgeon this morning. I was long overdue for a check of my hip dysplasia's degeneration, and I'd been struggling with what I thought were interstitial cysts in my ankles that had seemed to increase in size recently, and were causing a lot of pressure and discomfort in my ankles in long runs (and in just, say, standing around). Because of all the ankle pain I was already behind in my training for Baystate/Wineglass marathon. And I had prepared myself for the possibility that, as my PCP had suggested, I might have to have surgery to remove the cysts before I could run another marathon.

Turns out I didn't see my usual doc, but the one I did see was very kind and patient and serious. He examined my ankles and frowned and ordered x-rays of them and my hips. It was all very fast and pretty soon I was back in the exam room with him and pictures of my insides that looked Ansel Adams gone Halloween.

Turns out what my original doc had thought were cysts were actually my talus bones, all tipped over and jutting out and covered with swelling and inflamed tissue. Sweet. Probably happened from poor initial anatomy combined with last year's repeated ankle sprains...God knows I've had enough of them. If you've always wanted to know what a talus bone was, your prayers are answered here:

Bottom line...there's no fix. Even sweeter. That's ok though, I'm pretty used to running in pain at this point. When he told me that I probably couldn't do much more damage at this point I thought I was home free. Nothing a lifetime supply of advil and some ankle braces wouldn't fix, right? There's ALWAYS a solution, if you're willing to work hard enough. I'd do more ankle stablizing work (as if that is POSSIBLE). I'd rig up a new brace. I'd get new orthotics.

"Right", he said, in that way that makes it clear that the person doesn't think it's right at all. "Well, then there's the hip." The hip.

Right. THE HIP.

The right hip, in fact.

He showed me the x-ray, nothing I hadn't seen before. I can't figure out how to post it here, but I'd seen the arthritic spots before, the shallow, mishaped socket, the funky shaped femoral head...it wasn't shocking. Maybe a little more pitted and chalky, but looked pretty familiar as far as I was concerned.

Your degeneration isn't the worst I've seen he said. Not by a long shot. I don't think you should stop running, not unless the pain becomes too great. I'm nodding my head. Sounds good. I can do that.

He paused and searched for some words and I got that icky feeling in the pit of my stomach. This guy was too measured, too nice, too reasonable...and he was about to deliver really bad news that I didn't want to hear but might not be able to disregard like I had pretty much all the medical advice I gotten in my life up until this moment.

"If you don't limit the endurance stuff," he said, "you won't be able to run more than another couple or three years. Your body isn't made for it, and it's been telling you that for a while. You don't have a hip that looks like this (he points to the x-ray) and not feel it. Frankly," and this is the statement that killed me, "I find the callous disregard that you are showing your body fairly disturbing. I am a runner, and I know how runners are, but this is extreme. You're fortunate...if you moderate your running now, you can keep doing it for a long time. If you don't, your days as a runner are numbered. In my opinion, you should limit your runs to 8 miles maximum, and that's only if you experience no pain. And that's still just a guess. But anything over that is pretty sure to do more harm than good."

If he'd just told me to quit running, I could have ignored him like I have the countless well meaning orthopedists, podiatrists, neurologists, and physical therapists to have tread that path before him. Instead, he did the unthinkable...he made perfect, irrefutable sense.

And I was crushed. C-R-U-S-H-E-D.

As in, burdened greviously.

No more Ironmen? No chance to redeem myself and do the marathon and IM times I know I can? No BQ this year or ever again?

I get that a lot of people will think this is ridiculous. I'm just being honest. Peter called me on my way out to the car and I crawled inside it sobbing to him over and over that it wasn't fair. I've worked so HARD. I've come back from so MUCH. I've gotten so much faster and so much stronger and learned so much. And now I get beaten by those stupid x-rays, that stupid hip, and that stupid, kind, reasonable doctor.

I feel betrayed by my body. It's also my first instinct to say screw it and just keep doing what I want to do anyway. But the truth is, I can feel what my body is telling me. As I've posted before, I knew the clock was ticking, and that time was running out for my endurance racing.

I just didn't think it would end like THIS.

Sounds like that penultimate moment in a bad western, where the villain lays shot up and dying in disbelief that he got beat.

I never thought it would end like THIS.

So much unfinished business that I could take the risk to finish. Like a fellow athlete once said about his knee woes, sometimes I wish I'd just broken my leg. Then I know I can't race. This shouldn't but still could shit is for the birds.

I'm pissed and sad and in denial and kind of facing up and trying to process all at once. I need to do the kind of thinking that I do on my long runs.

The ones I'm not supposed to do anymore.

a

The Gran Prix!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-08-04T16:55:00.001-07:00

Oh man, just watched the Beverly Gran Prix. SO much fun. Wish I could be as badass as those boys and girls who wipe out and get run over and just get up and keep riding 35 mph+ around 90 degree turns 5 riders deep. Watched Corey kick butt and fall down (2x) in the early men's race, Crystal hang tough with the women, and Phil absolutely fly in the pro race. Salem Crit is next week, so go if you can. Likewise come down to the Gloucester Tri and volunteer or cheer, and visit the TriROK Table at the fair. Too bad I won't be there since I'll be spending a cumulative 28 hours this weekend in a classroom at Smith College. :(

a

Volunteer for the Gloucester Tri

2010-08-02T02:29:00.000-07:00

The Gloucester Triathlon is an amazing local race that raises money for charities right in our communities. Over 750 athletes will race on Sunday, so lots of help is needed. If you can volunteer you will have the coolest experience watching all of the athletes have their day! Visit www.gloucesterfishermantri.com/Volunteer.html to sign up...

a

Mind and Matters

2010-07-29T17:49:00.000-07:00

"Without moderation in application, even the greatest wisdom can sour like milk."

Great quote, written in my notes from my Iyangar training. Don't know who to attribute it to, but I agree. Hell, maybe I came up with it myself!!!

Er...not.

But it's clear that like the Hindus, the Bhuddists could laugh at themselves. There's a parable of a young monk traveling door to door with only his evangelism and his rice bowl, depending upon the hospitality of the homes he visited. He was wise, and peaceful, and convinced many that nonattachment and the poverty of monastic life was the way to go. I forget how it all goes down, but basically he starts finding more and more empty houses in his neck of the woods, and running into more and more monks with empty rice bowls, looking for hospitality. Pretty soon the entire population has found enlightenment, but goes hungry for want of a normal household with food to offer.

I guess the message is that it takes a lot of different types to make the world go round. The leaders, the doers, the thinkers, the contemplators, the faithful, the self-reliant. No wisdom is perfect applicable to everyone, because the strength of our kind relies as much on our diversity as it does our solidarity. I was just discussing this topic with my sister during her visit, as we came up with justifications for why we are the compulsive do-ers that we are.

Interestingly, the parable applies quite neatly to coaching. It's marketable and easier to have a pet philosophy as a coach...something pat to sell. You use the latest biofeedback devices and offer daily iterative coaching based on biofeedback. You hew to the crossfit philosphy. You favor high volume. You emphasize heart rate monitoring. WHATEVER. Doesn't matter. Every theory works for someone, and if you only coach those someones for whom it works, then all your clients will do well.

You see some acknowledgement of this in that many coaches limit who they will work with. But the reality is, that if you coach more than one client, chances are you need more than one approach. It's easy to look at the traits that people bring you in their whole packages, and only train the ones you know. But usually, long term success means finding a way to coach the parts of people that you are less familiar with and that fit less neatly into a coaches "philosophy."

So we all know that in my blog I seem to like to start with some big idea and then suddenly bring it to bear on some pet peeve of mine. So let's save the suspense and just get right to it, shall we?

The topic of today's soapbox is "mental weakness." I feel that I have a lot to say on this subject from both sides. I believe that my completion of IMWI without my left leg or my vomitous run leg and finish at Firmman RI qualify me as without "mental weakness." And let's not forget the childhood...er, ok maybe let's just forget that.

But wait...if I'm so mentally tough, how come I can only resist that Down River ice cream 50% of the times I pass it? How come I can't keep from yelling at my 7 year old when she draws stars all over the inside of my car?

My point is, that we're all mentally tough, and we're all mentally weak. If you want to race up to your potential, or help athletes do the same, then you've got to acknowledge that. Everyone has a touchstone, for better or worse. Learn to use it well and they excel, ignore it and try to simply "toughen" them, and they will continually fail.

We often like to deride what we don't understand or feel powerless to control. Our mind often feels that way, so that's what we go to when we're pissed. I just should have tried harder. Stayed more positive. I wish I wasn't so mentally WEAK. As a coach, we feel like we've trained the athlete to perform up to their potential, so if they don't it must be their MIND.

Maybe it's not the mind. Maybe it's just that we aren't using the right tools.

Savor that thought...more later :)

a

Watch This. Get Involved.

2010-07-21T17:34:00.000-07:00

Wisdom of the Ages

2010-07-19T09:20:00.000-07:00

Saturday's trail race sucked as far as a physical expression of ability goes. Other than that it was great.

Essex County Greenbelt Association is an organization worth ponying up for if you live anywhere close to the North Shore and enjoy the outdoors. Ed Becker and crew are a vibrant source of environmental passion so you should support them for that alone.

They also run some great trail races.

Last year I did this race with a friend who wanted to do her first 10k, and so I knew it was a challenging course and although billed as a 10k, no one made any bones about it being a bit longer than that - according to ye old Garmin I covered 6.78 miles. At least .4 of that is likely due to my spastic trail running form and not the actual length of the course.

It was a cold and rainy and muddy run last year, and oh so fun because I wasn't working hard. We were literally the last ones to cross the finish, so revisionist history was easy. Wow, I thought, seeing how slow the winning times were. If I'd really raced that I coulda done pretty well!

Ahhhh....no.

Ok, maybe. Maybe if it'd been cold and rainy this year I would have been decent. But likely not.

It's always humbling and informative to get pretty good at one sport, and then go try another. Or better yet, practice your new sport until you think you are pretty good, and then go compete with people who actually ARE good.

Trail races are like swim meets for me. I come out of the water in a relatively good spot in most triathlons, usually in the top 10-15% of whatever wave I'm in. I ain't first, but I usually enter the bike course in good shape and without having wasted much energy.

Then I go to a swim meet with Master's and find that my times have me seeded in the 65 years old and up heat. Yeah - watch me take those grannies down. OK...except for the granny in the skinsuit. She torched me in the first 25 meters and I was down 2 seconds at the first turn.

Likewise, I run around on trails with friends and clients and alone, and I think I'm a superstar. Granted, I run about a minute per mile slower than usual, but doesn't everybody?

Um...cue the crickets.

Anyway, I was really un-psyched about Saturday regardless. It was hot and muggy and I'd been struggling with stomach issues as always in the heat. My asthma has sucked for the last week as the air quality has plummeted. I found out I was going to be gone for one of the races in the series so I couldn't even get my freaking t-shirt I wanted. I was grumbly and grumpy and almost backed out.

But...hello. It's me we're talking about here.

So I show up and start dripping sweat on the walk down to registration. Super. I started thinking up excuses for my performance before it happened. I chatted with some Greenbelt folks, and then with a woman who was doing the 5k. I told her I envied her.

I also watched the real runners mill around. You know the ones - tan, lean, boys and girls in racing flats and running shorts and little else. They were peppy and confident because even on a bad day, they'd be off the course in about 45 minutes.

It's a small race, and no mediocre runners could be found, at least not for the 10k. Damn I thought. Where are the "I just want to do the distance" people? Oh well.

We started off and I thought I was doing pretty well. I was staying with some folks I know to be pretty fast runners in road races and felt pretty comfortable. OK - I actually felt like my head was going to explode, but that's just my baseline when it's over 85 degrees.

Then we passed mile one and I looked down at my watch: 9:15.

OK, don't get me wrong. I get that it's a slow race. The winner usually does it in around 40 minutes, and these are guys who normally run a 32 minute road 10k.

But 9:15?

Pretty soon 9:15's started to look good. I found myself lingering at the one water stop, which was located at the end of the first loop. Two girls running near me had made the decision to drop out because of the heat. I contemplated it myself, I won't lie. There was a great article by Amby Burfoot in Runner's World a while back, where he let them take him into the lab and compare his biostats running at normal temps with those while running in high heat. Let's just say I was finding his results to be quite accurate.

However, when your one major talent as an athlete is "not quitting" you don't take DNF's lightly. So I grimly soldiered on, making small talk with people as I passed them (few) or they passed me (many). My mantra became, "No negative split? You still don't quit."

I'm not kidding.

I was wheezing pretty badly by mile 4 so in anticipation of one of the steeper hills I used my inhaler. An older gentleman I'd been running along with for a while took notice.

"Is it worth it?"

Great, I thought, here we go.

"Is what worth it? The inhaler?" I really didn't want to waste my breath (and obviously poor lung capacity) on trite questions.

"No...the whole experience. When you finish, I mean." This is when I realized that he wasn't breathing very hard. "When you account for the heat, and humidity, and asthma, and exertion, will the experience be a net positive?

I swear to God, while I'm paraphrasing him, the sentence was at least that long and he didn't take a breath the entire time he was speaking.

"I dunno." Gasp, wheeze. "I'll let ya know at the finish."

"How come you're doing it then?" I wanted to hit him, but he seemed so genuinely nice and unthreatening and fatherly. Those qualities also kept me from any of the snarky responses that came immediately to mind. Instead, I answered as honestly as I could with little oxygen flowing to my brain.

"I ran with a friend last year and I took last place for the team. I wanted redemption. I also wanted the trail series t-shirt. "

At this point we were turning and going down a steep downhill. Unlike the mountain goats I was running with, I can't embrace flying down hills on trails (or roads really). The catastrophic risks are too high for me and my funky ankles. So I started to pick my way down and magnanimously offered to him that he should go ahead.

He didn't.

Instead he offered to me that his competitive running days were about 20 years behind him, and he'd had to dig deep to discover a reason to continue. "I hadn't loved running, I'd loved competing," he said. "I had to learn to love running, and to do that I had to find a way to stop caring about the numbers."

Not something I hadn't contemplated before myself, buddy.

He wasn't finished. "I decided that I didn't really care about the numbers though. I cared about what OTHER people thought about the numbers. I cared about what they thought about me."

Jesus - what is it about me that brings this shit out in people? Yes, I'm having a sucky race. One sucky race. But I just ran a 5k in 22:22, a 10k in 46 minutes, a trail 10k with obstacles one hour after doing a sprint tri in 49 minutes, and a marathon in 3:56 with WALKING FUCKING PNEUMONIA!!!! I'm not so pathetic I need a fucking lecture about just loving the running!!! AM I?!?!?

"The funny thing is, we only care about what other people think when we aren't sure what we think about OURSELVES."

I opened my mouth. I closed my mouth (not easy for me). We finished the race, and it was slow and hot and I did poorly relative to what I thought I should have been able to do (I thought hilly trails + heat + (6.5-6.8) miles = 55-57 minute range...instead it took me 1:04).

However, I sat with what he said the rest of the day and thought it was useful advice. I mulled it over and shifted it from left brain to right brain back to left brain. I felt like I'd come out of the race at least enriched with an entertaining story and a good quote.

But it was also eating at me. Not because I think my competitive days are behind me at all, but because I think what he said was true just the same.

I pulled out some old readings from my Iyangar training, all on the subject of yin and yang energy. Gender assignments aside - since they aren't necessary OR accurate - yang is that "get shit done" energy...ambitious, motivated, goal-oriented. Yin is the quieter, reflective, nurturing energy. It takes both to make the world go round, but leave them out of balance for too long and bad things happen. To much yin and you indulge yourself too much. Too much yang, and you'll run yourself into the ground.

I've been working with too much of one type of energy for the last several years - two guesses as to which one. And it's driven too much by questions I have about myself, what I'm giving this world, and fear of failure. I don't really care what others think, I'm just not sure what I think about myself.

Some of that's good - I've answered a lot of those questions over the last five years, and I've been happy with the answers. Some of it is just old wastes of energy, cycling around and around in my head.

Regardless, I realize I've been aching for the yin. So instead of doing my long run yesterday, and assaulting my body with more heat and exertion, I ran for an hour and went to a restorative yoga class. I almost cried with relief twice during the 90 minutes. Finally - I was back on a mat with no questions to answer. Finally, my head could clear and my body could relax (even though it was a hell of a challenge - I am TIGHT).

The yang doesn't need to go anywhere...it just needs to make room for the yin. Building TriROK, competing in triathlon, all of my pursuits...I appreciate that yang energy that gets it done. And yin's been around - just not as much of it, and what there is has gone towards the nurturing and care for my clients (even if they feel it as something less warm and fuzzy sometimes ;), friends, and family.

But now it's time for some yin for me - and more for my kiddos too. When I can find calm then they have an easier time of it too...maybe with all the wisdom I'm picking up the hard way they'll learn to find balance easier and earlier than I did.

a

a

A Weighty Issue

2010-07-18T07:48:00.000-07:00

OK…let’s talk about a touchy subject. Or actually – for a lot of people - an untouchable subject.

Weight.

It seems that two theories hold sway today:

1. Advertising and marketers are distorting body images, making people unhappy with how they look. The solution is to learn to love yourself the way you are, and ignore your weight and potentially unhealthy behaviors that got you there.

2. There is an obesity epidemic, and we are a nation of fat slobs. Anyone with an unhealthy BMI needs to grow some will power and a work ethic and lose the weight.

As usual, the answer is somewhere in between, but part of the problem is that we are doing what we are trained to do as a species – direct our attention to what we can SEE. What we see is size and shape.

Yes – being overweight is correlated to many health problems. But what exactly IS overweight? And would we do well to remember that correlation is not causation?

My husband has a BMI of 29, which is considered overweight BORDERING ON OBESE.
This is my husband, at age 55, winning his age group at the Gloucester Tri.

German studies have now joined those from the USA and Canada in finding that that greatest longevity is associated with a BMI of around 28…squarely in the overweight category. Part of this is the grossly simplified approach of BMI to describing body composition – BMI is basically a glorified height and weight matrix. But part of it reflects that fact that as easy as it is to pick out in a room, being “overweight” is less easily identified as a culprit in health problems, probably, at least in part, because many people are naturally and genetically designed to carry some “extra” weight.

Weight itself, independent of other characteristics, has never been proven to cause any health problems, at least until it becomes quite extreme. What causes health problems are behaviors that tend to lead to certain body compositions. However, those behaviors don’t always lead to a high body fat percentage, nor does body composition necessarily determine health.

If you look back at those old grainy photo’s from the early 1900’s and late 1800’s, you don’t see a lot of buff bodies. Men who worked fields all day or spend months hunting and trapping in the wilderness, required many thousands of calories a day and were far more active on a daily basis that your local CEO/Ironman age-grouper. You’d think they’d be cut and chiseled, right? Not so much if the photo’s are any evidence. While you rarely saw examples of obesity, lots of these guys sports guts and butts, or were at least a bit flabby. Same went for the women – at least those not wealthy enough to own corsets.

But these folks could kick our butts. They also died a lot earlier than we did. Thank you advances in medical science.

Study after study also shows that extremely calorie restricted diets that deliver balanced and diverse nutrients are linked to increased longevity in mice, monkeys, and - it appears - in humans as well.

They also are beginning to prove that weight is not a simple calorie-in, calorie-out equation (although in this day and age so many free calories and so much sitting amke the equation almost moot). Differences in physiologies make for differences in metabolisms. Taken together, you've got differences in physiques. Those differences, however, are NOT indicative of an individual's overall health or quality of life.

Right now, I am 129 pounds. Three years ago, I was eating about 2800 calories a day and couldn’t get over 118 pounds. Right now I am almost exactly the same body fat percentage that I was three years ago, but weigh about 10 pounds more. My BMI then? 19.8. Now it is 21.5. Both are in the healthy category, but they are significantly different values.

Three years ago, I was definitely thinner, and wore size 0’s comfortably. Now I tend to wear size 2’s and 4’s. However, I’m clearly stronger, less injury-prone, and solid now then I was then. I like my body better right now – I have some curves back, but I am sporting a ton more muscle. But it’s not as good at endurance racing as it once was.

So what’s my point here? You hear a lot about “optimizing body composition” for training and racing. Extra weight slows you down. Lose too much, and your performance and health is compromised.

You hear a lot about how fat our country is getting. You also hear a lot about how young girls think that to be beautiful they have to have concave limbs.

All these issues need to be teased apart from the visual aspect so easily assessed as “weight.” Health and aesthetics need to be separated – one has little if anything to do with the other.

The focus needs to be on BEHAVIORS. Genetics can't be helped. Behavior can. But time and time again we see that if you make people feel badly about how they look (negative focus on something that may or may not be under that person's control anyway) it is very hard to make permanent, sustainable changes to unhealthy behaviors. Intead, if people are empowered to make positive decisions about HEALTH, then they feel comfortable making small, concrete steps and feeling good about them.

We all need to remember that what you look like doesn't determine how healthy you are, nor does it reflect your goodness/strength/fitness/speed/willpower/etc. Fat on your body is just that...fat on your body. Taken alone, it's neither good nor bad, just a simple and important aspect of your bodily systems.

If we could separate virtue, aesthetics, health, and self-worth from this simple tissue, then we'd be in much better position to improve them in ourselves and others across the board.

a

Hot and Bothered...

2010-07-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

Get ready for a very un-coachy statement...

I should be running right now. Instead, I'm writing this.

I guess that's ultimately why I separated the coachy blog from this one, right?

Anway, I've had a lot rolling around in my head this week, so much so that two different friends of mine started to seriously question if something was wrong. Nothing was, really, but I was spending a lot of time contemplating the subject of disappointment - my own and others' - and perhaps it rubbed off a bit on my countenance.

Personally, it wasn't a great week. My daughter's last gineau pig died and she was full of grief. I lost one of my most beloved clients to the reality of a life overbrimming with commitments, probably honestly combined with my inability as a coach to find the right way to keep this person engaged in their training and racing. My own performances fell apart in the heat. I was frustrated with Morgan's choice (before gineau pig death mind you) to quit ten minutes into the basketball clinic she'd been so enthused to sign up for. I've also been disheartened by the lack of follow through and commitment shown by a few folks in my life.

In other words, a lot of sources of disappointment, right?

Many friends and clients have been struggling with the same. Disappointing performances, weight struggles, medical problems and injuries, lack of motivation, friendships not what they once were, internal family struggles, too much to do in too little time.

It reminded me, though, of what I once read in a parenting book. Deliberately and religiously praise, it said, all of the good things that your child does. Because we generally don't notice the positives - we just focus on the negatives and comment on those because they naturally garner our attention. Our focus is usually most easily drawn to the bad. It's just human nature.

That made me think of our track session in the blinding heat Tuesday evening. We couldn't run a normal session in that kind of environment, so instead we worked on the mental game, and how to stay safe in the heat. Bringing yoga to the oval, we focused on beginner's mind, that state of being where the effort is expended on keeping the mind open and clear of preconceptions, goals, and judgements. Where the emphasis is simply on execution and the dispassionate observance of what follows. The beginner is not attached to an outcome, only to the process of gathering information and observing the process. Ego is not a factor, and neither are expectations.

In other words, we did what we could do, and simply observed the outcome. Some folks really thought the heat would affect them and yet it didn't. Others were unable to safely execute repeats at normal paces, but instead gained important information on how to safely adjust pacing for future training and racing in these conditions. And everyone gained some acclimation.

There was an article in this month's Triathlete magazine by Samantha McGlone discussing the Central Governor Theory (CGT) which is the idea that your brain inhibits what you can REALLY do in order to keep you safely within operating limits. Some folks' brains don't do this very well, so they can push to their true physical limits. In effect they are a little broken, and hence they can win the Badwater 100. They are also more likely to die doing it.

I'll talk more about CGT on my coachy blog, because it has a lot of influence over theories of training and racing and psychophysiological preparation. But the fact of the matter is we get PISSED at ourselves - and disappointed - when we don't leave it all on the field. When we panic on the swim and return to shore. When we drop to a walk on the last massive hill. When we slow to a crawl in the heat and humidity. But really, it's just our brains doing their jobs. Living trumps pride. Not something to be disappointed about, really.

That's not to say that was truly the choice and that we can't train our brains to let us operate closer to the edge of the envelope and use more of our physical potential. But it isn't something to be disappointed in - not if you turn it around and look at the facts of why it happens.

Which brings me to an article today in the Globe, which referenced one of my favorite "Onion" headlines ever: "Area Man Passionate Defender of What he Imagines Constitution To Be." I don't have time to read the newspaper almost ever anymore, but my husband brought it to my attention so I skimmed it.

Basically, the gist of the article is that science is clearly demonstrating that facts have little impact on people's opinions and when they prove people wrong, those people are more likely to become MORE entrenched in their original, erroneous beliefs. It's called backfiring.

"'The general idea is that it's absolutely threatening to admit you're wrong,' says political scientist Brendan Nyhan, the lead researcher on the Michigan study...Most of us like to believe that our opinions have been formed over time by careful, rational consideration of facts and ideas, and that the decisions based on those opinions, therefore, have the ring of soundness and intelligence. In reality, we often base our opinions on our beliefs, which can have an uneasy relationship with fact. And rather than facts driving beliefs, our beliefs can dictate the facts we chose to accept. They can cause us to twist facts so they fit better with our preconceived notions. Worst of all, they can lead us to uncritically accept bad information just because it reinforces our beliefs. This reinforcement makes us more confident we're right, and even less likely to listen to any new information."

The article was aimed on the consequence of backfiring on politics, but the reality is that it has influences everywhere. Going back to CGT, it's our conviction that we COULD have done better that makes us so angry when we don't. But what if in fact we couldn't? What if your brain actually kept you from drowning by making you panic and turn around? Or from getting heat stroke because you slowed your pace? Maybe your brain kept you from winning your age group. Or maybe it saved your life. On which side would you like it to err?

As some one who has beaten the perimeter of her central governor pretty far back, I can tell you from experience that it's not always the best thing. Now when I do hit it, it hits back - hard. I go straight from running strong to vomiting my brains out. Or sprinting the hill to closing down my airway. I have had to mostly stop racing and training in heavy heat, because I can't trust my CG to do the right thing and keep me safe.

Likewise, what right do I have to be disappointed in my daughter for quitting? Yes - maybe if she'd stuck it out she would have liked it. But likely not. She's not a big one for team sports so far and she's not very competitive and doesn't enjoy doing things...well....that she doesn't enjoy. She's always been a toughie and kept going when the going got hard in the things she cares about - school, riding, swimming, fun runs, etc. One time walking away does not mean she'll live the rest of her life in our basement.

I get annoyed when someone backs out of a commitment or screws up a project I'm working on with them, and yet if I stepped back and looked, I'd see far more people who have stepped up - with no reason to - and come to my rescue, time and time again. Offering time, resources, and skills to the causes I most love. Not because they have to, but because they are good, caring people who I'm lucky to have in my life.

We tend to reframe to the negative, but we can just as easily do the opposite. The bottom line: backfiring is automatic, and it leads to disappointment. Not all disappointments occur this way - some are very real and we need to sit with those. But a lot are manufactured because we are viewing through that skewed, natural, negative lens.

So the greatest antidote to backfiring? I think it all goes back to that beginner's mind. Most of our disappointments are born of ego, erroneous beliefs, and misinterpretation of the facts. If you come at every workout, every race, every errand, every day with an open, observational mind, much of that stuffs falls away and you are left simply with a moment. A moment of your life. That you can make more fully a positive part of your experience on this earth.

I ain't sayin' it's easy. The Buddhists never claimed it was. But just like I lectured Morgan the night after the basketball disaster, the most worthy things in life are rarely the easiest to accomplish. Turns out what I was saying was right.

I was just lecturing the wrong person.

a

The Lake

2010-07-01T19:23:00.000-07:00

I remember now why “Ahmaculcas Lake”* stars in my apocalyptic dreams.

Three days past the summer solstice, the place feels on the edge of winter. Every facet of the landscape is evolved for darkness and cold, and although the flora and fauna might relish the brief warmth of summer, everything seems poised to survive the frigid months that dominate the calendar here.

It is breathtaking and peaceful, yet unnerving all at once. There are no cell phone signals, no land lines, and 8 miles of difficult logging roads to traverse just to get to a road in the middle of nowhere. Your only human visitors are drivers of murderously fast logging trucks and trappers that could be cousins of the stars of Deliverance. There are also big, fierce, hungry things here…moose, and bucks, and bears, and wildcats. Things that need to protect their young.

I need to protect my young.

Thus – potential conflict.

I don’t want to feel conflict here and didn’t used to. But as I get older, every corner turned reveals a reminder of a time where every moment of the day was devoted to ensuring the next moment’s survival. The majesty and wonder are undeniable, but so is the knowledge that your decisions bear consequences beyond a call to AAA or a trip to the drugstore.

There are no bugs at the camp since it is on a peninsula and enjoys a near constant breeze. There is no running water or electricity, but there is a spring and a pump and acres of pristine lake. There are also several snug cabins – we use the kitchen cabin and the “point” sleeping cabin located furthest out on the peninsula. The boat house is a Garden of Eden for the kids, yielding fishing rods and sparkling lures and nets for catching the ENORMOUS bull frogs that have no fear and sit still for the catching.

On nice days we spend much of the days in the canoe exploring the shoreline around the lake. On our excursions this time we found many beavers and a new lodge. On the way in we had seen a bull moose and a bear cub, but saw nothing more than beaver, loons, and squirrels at the lake. Oh – and a bold tufted titmouse that flew down and sat on my arm for a moment before thinking better of his bravery.

We had a lot of rainy weather too on this trip. Second day in was pouring rains and 54 degrees as a high. We holed up in the kitchen cabin and Pete started a fire in the cast iron stove. We played war and go fish and monopoly and Ruin – a game that Sam had won in the raffle at the Lincoln Kids’ Triathlon last Saturday.

And on that subject an aside – I was so proud of Morgan and Nina and Sylvie and Piper and Sam at the tri. I can only speak for my kids, but it was the first day my kids showed real nerves before a race and they both managed them and did great. Our great victories of the day were Sam not having a nervous breakdown before the start and Morgan not crashing on the bike. She was slow and steady and careful and the cutest thing on two wheels. Afterwards, Sam declared that I had in fact been right – while he’d been scared beforehand, the race itself was super fun and he was proud at the finish. Good boy. Remember – Mommy’s ALWAYS right. Morgan was one of the slowest in her age group because of her bike and Sam was middle of the pack. And when they learned of this, they both shrugged. That maybe made me happiest of all.

Anyway, back to Maine. After another day of rain we headed out to a local town for supplies and to give the kids a diversion. At that point I hadn’t run in almost three days. I was FREAKING out. So when we drove back in I dropped them at the boat, took the car back to the trailhead and then bolted onto the logging road for a run.

It’s a road not actively used right now, so I wasn’t worried about getting run down. But it’s hilly and twisty and you can never anticipate who – or what – is around the next corner. I’ve seen plenty of wildlife on previous runs there, but with thunderheads in the distance I was feeling more menaced than before. That’s why I decided to carry my big wooden knitting needles with me – one in each hand. But soon I lost my thoughts in effort and all was fine until about 1.5 miles from the end of my run, when something HUGE startled in the woods just to my left.

It started towards me and then turned and bolted deeper into the brush. I echoed its movements and bolted down the road as fast as my legs could carry me. I have no idea what it was, but I’m guessing a big buck.

Regardless – it took about 5 years off of my life.

I didn’t run again for the rest of our stay. This made me feel ridiculous and crabby, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Oh well.

Two more days of canoeing and chilly weather, hiking around, bathing in the lake, and using outhouses. It was a sharp reminder of why when I dream my recurring dreams about the world ending and the need to drag my children to sanctuary, I dream of finding horses and riding the 300 miles to a remote camp in Maine. Because the tools of survival are already there, bestowed by generations of woodsman who knew what the hell they were doing. The cabins are sound and mostly weatherproof. The stoves are sturdy, and the implements to cook with them hang nearby. The roads are passable, but confusing to outsiders. Tools, canoes, fishing and hunting gear, water, and yes – food – surround.

You can SURVIVE there.

Apparently, running there is harder.

Now we are back in the civilization of Bangor, on our way back home. I have a run through town on the river awaiting me tomorrow. I’m haunted by not running more at the lake. And glad I don’t have to.

a

*The true name of the lake has been changed to protect privacy, however, this is the pronunciation that the locals give it, which is not to say that it is in any way reminiscent of the actual name of the lake.

The Grace of the Gradual

2010-06-16T15:03:00.001-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that patience is not my virtue. Productivity - yes. Patience - no. Yet even I can acknowledge that the most permanent, positive changes are the ones that you have the patience to make gradually.*

There is something so sexy and brightly appealing about "fresh starts." We love New Year's resolutions. We look to the dawn of a new day. We like to cleave our new ways from our old.

"I'll quit smoking tomorrow."

"I'm eating vegetarian as of today."

"No more sweets for me!"

I should know - I must have spoken that first line to myself about seven serious times before I finally did quit smoking. In the end, I simply whittled down how many cigarettes a day I smoked until it wasn't engrained into every routine action in my life, then I waited till I got my usual spring bout of bronchitis and didn't WANT a smoke, and went on the patch. That was it. Horrible, and it took years before I didn't long for one last drag, but I got it done. Not cold turkey but gradually.

I practiced quitting for a long time before I got it right.

The same went for the healthy eating habits that have stuck. Each mealtime became and opportunity of choice. I slowly conditioned myself to ADD good foods first, then to slowly decrease the crap I was eating.

When we try to jump into something whole hog - whether it is a new nutritional routine, exercise, meditation, you name it - it can get overwelming, intrude on the rest of our life in unsustainable ways, burn us out, and make us feel intense longing for our old ways.

So if you want to make a permanent and sustainable change, make it slowly. In all the successful lifestyle modifications I've made over the years - thought patterns, nutrition, smoking cessation, fitness, career path - these are the harbingers of victory:

1. Do your homework.
Identify the exact change you want to make at this point in time. Say you want to take up running. Talk to others that have become runners as adults. Chat with coaches. Read about running. Define what running means to you. Is it running a mile without stopping? Doing a 5k? Running 20 minutes three times per week? Whatever it is, come up with a realistic, doable plan. A GRADUAL plan.

2. Practice the change.
Practice makes perfect. You don't wake up one day and go to work as a neurosurgeon. You study, you watch others, you train using the tools of the trade, and you practice the skills that will make you successful.

Want to quit smoking? Try taking out a cigarette and, without lighting it, throwing it away and going back to whatever you were doing for 15 minutes. Once you can do that a few times a day, promise yourself to go double your normal interval without a smoke. Tell people you are getting ready to quit. Tell them about your plan. Practice using the smoking cessation aid you intend to quit with. Repeat your mantras that you'll use when the going gets rough. When you are really stressed out and dying for a cigarette - don't have one for another hour. Stop smoking in your car. So on and so forth.

3. Slowly integrate it into the routine.
Want to eat better? Start including fruits and vegetables with all your meals. After that is well established, add them to your snacks as well. Start bringing a bento box with you to every meal you eat out and immediately package half your entree to bring home with you before you start eating. Replace one of your three diet cokes a day with sparkling water and lemon. Stop eating fast food on weekends. Start skipping desserts on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Soon, the healthy becomes habit. But without feeling overwelming or depriving.

4. Find a replacement.
When I was quitting smoking I had to come up with something to do with my nervous energy instead of going outside to smoke. So at work, I began walking around the block - once before work, once at 10:30, once at noon, once at 3pm - all my old smoke breaks.

I used to be addicted to coke (the soda ;). So I switched to diet coke. Then to iced tea. Then to water and lime. Now I drink wine :) Replacements can form a chain from bad to better to good. One step at a time.

5. Recognize and accept the reasons for the status quo.
To make a change you need to understand why you do (or don't do) the thing you do (or don't do) now. Delve deep. Is a lack of time the REAL reason you don't run? Or is it because you hate the way being out of breath feels? Or because you are afraid of finding out how poor a shape you are in? Or because you think you look ridiculous? Or all of the above?

I used to run super early in the morning because no one was around to see me taking my walking breaks. Recognizing that I was using smoking as a nervous release helped me find a suitable replacement activity. If you eat because you are bored, you won't be able to change your eating habits lying around your house all day. You can't change something effectively that you don't understand.

6. Keep goals positive and realistic and celebrate when you meet them.
Here's an example. If you want to lose weight, ask yourself why. Looking good in a bikini is often a weak motivator in the middle of winter. Try to reframe your goals for the long-term. Your goal becomes, "I want to eat well and be fit. Because one indicator of health is body composition, I want to make sure that mine gets into the healthy range."

At eighty you won't look good in a bikini no matter what. But if you have spent the last fifty years eating well and staying fit, chances are you'll make it there AND have better quality of life than peers who didn't.

Now, say you achieved that goal. Say your original BMI was 32 and through good nutrition and moderate exercise you brought your BMI down to a 24. It's human nature for many of us to focus on the fact that we still don't look good in the bikini, rather than how amazing it is that we made such huge and positive change and met the goal we set.

I would be a rich coach if I had $10 for every client who started off wanting to "just finish the race", did just that, and was disappointed because they were slower than a friend.

Don't do it! Don't get sucked into the "moving target" goal. Celebrate the HELL out of your accomplishments. Recognize where you came from before you again change where you want to go.

7. Make like Nike and just do it.
Just recently I realized that I am on the verge of going flexitarian/vegetarian again. I've been considering doing it for a while since Morgan and Sam don't eat meat, it appeals to my environmental values, and I think I've got the iron dosages and timing ironed out to keep my anemia at bay.

So I've just been choosing to eat less and less meat and in the last week have had one serving of fish, one serving of chicken, and one of beef. I had to do my homework to make sure that I'm getting proper training and recovery nutrition and not exacerbating my anemia. I had to do a little planning about what I was going to sub in for my protein at meals without relying heavily on soy and dairy. I had to consider how I would handle it if my training, racing, or weight was affected. And then I just proceeded to make my meals without it (2 of the 3 servings were when I was eating out).

Ghandi said, "You must be the change that you wish to see in the world." Man, that guy had a lot of good quotes! His wisdom extends inwards. Be the change you wish to see in yourself. Live it a little more each day, and soon it will be part of you.

a

*Unfortunately it cuts both ways...often times the most permanent negative changes are the ones that sneak into our behavior gradually as well - without us noticing.

Race Reports, Fanciness, and the Bittersweet

2010-06-11T14:35:00.000-07:00

Well, first things first:

Morgan and I now have very fancy nails.

We're even fancier because now we can't pick our noses - those little rhinestones slice and dice!

She has also selected a very fancy background for my blog and I quite like it. I'm sure you'll agree she has very good taste ;)

Yesterday was Sam's last day at the Tara Montessori school. Today was his end of year celebration at Lynch Park. Next year he will be a kindergartner. My kids went to Tara for a collective six years. I have cried intermittantly for 72 hours now. I cannot yet stand to upload the pictures from his graduation.

I now understand the term bittersweet.

Enough of that...I'm sick of sobbing.

Last night was the Hollis 5k, the first 5k I've ever actually TAPERED for. I was desperate to get an officially fast 5k on the books. Salem was over 23 because I spit the bit, and my attempts at even splits at a long Lowell course were disasterous, although much faster.

I KNEW I had 7:10's or faster in me. I've been consistently running 16x400@1:43 on 2 minutes. That should translate to a 5k in the high 6's, but I'd be happy with 7:10's or under.

I'd told Jason Morris about the Hollis race a couple of months ago, and we signed up. Jay used to be slower than me but he's been running like a mad man, despite a slight setback when he ruptured his achilles (OUCH!!!). Now he's much faster than me, except he's suffering from some knee issues, which makes him just a little faster than me. So it was nice to have someone there who I don't coach to push me.

All excuses were off the table from the get-go. I didn't get my period for the race. It wasn't hot (in fact it was cold and rainy). I had my inhaler when my asthma kicked in. The race is ENTIRELY downhill. I got to warm up, gu, use the bathroom, and had my music. In fact Jason and I agreed that the one little false flat at mile 2.5 felt like a mountain since we were so used to running downhill.

My first mile was slow and somewhat disconcerting as I had lost Jason right at the start and thought he was way ahead of me which bummed me out. I was also amazed/depressed by the fact that this little 10 year old girl was running with me and not breathing hard. We passed through mile one at 6:55 which was about 8 seconds slow because I'd started my watch when the gun went off, not when I crossed the line (800 people in the race and chip timing made for no rush at the start). So about a 6:47 first mile.

Right after mile 1, Jason came up beside me. I gave him a look like, "this is fucking hard!" and he just kind of laughed. I knew he was going to beat me at that moment. My right ear bud kept falling out so I slowed a bit to stick it in my shorts and he was off. My mission became to keep him close.

We passed mile 2 at 14:10 by my watch - 14:02 chip time. I had been worried that the downhill would ruin my hip and knees, but it was fine. In fact my legs were fine the entire race, my lungs were the limiter. So much turnover so fast!!!

That little false flat showed up at 2.5 which is always when I want to die anyway, so that was special. Two more little girls passed me. I passed some guy and was all proud till he started giving shout outs to his friends who were spectating. The guy could speak in full sentences! If you'd asked me a question all I'd be able to do at that point was give you the finger.

We blipped up over the last little rise and it was downhill/flat for the last .25 mile before the finish. Jason was right in front of me but there was NO way I was catching him. I was happy just to hold pace. I heard the announcer say, "Next to finish, Jason Morris - the pride of Topsfield!" That will now be his nickname in my book. Hee, hee.

He finished in 22:14 and I finished in 22:22. So I JUST barely missed my goal. But I'm happy because I left nothing out there and I gave it everything. It was a perfect race (OK - a little less humid would have helped the asthma but it was as close to perfect as I'll ever get!).

I was also super proud to see Jason do so well. Rupturing your achilles is not something most people come back from and run with. But he did it, finished his first half-marathon, and is now kicking ass. Well done.

After the race, we both agreed how key it is that our spouses and families are so supportive of our training racing. Here it was a Thursday night, and they'd all sacrificed so we could give this race a stab. We know how lucky we are!

New goal: great fall marathon AND sub-22 minutes at a late fall 5k. Think it will happen? We'll see!

a

A little pep talk from long ago...

2010-06-07T16:54:00.000-07:00

I was going through some old files looking for some materials for a TriROK presentation, and I found this old letter I had written to the original TriROK'ers. They were about a month into training and were having their doubts. Reading through it, it's clear I was talking to myself as much as anyone. Maybe more.

You have all made me believe.

The question is, do you believe in yourselves?

Do you remember what it was to be a kid, running through green grass, and all you thought was, “I am fast, fast, fast?” You felt the cool crush under your feet and your hair fall back from your face. You didn’t think about what fast was or if it was enough. You didn’t wonder how you looked when you ran. You knew how you looked…you were FLYING.

Do you remember climbing trees, curling your fingers into cracks and pushing up by your toenails, too stubborn to give up? No give up, just get up. Scraped knees and torn shirts be damned, you would see the world from just a little higher. You didn’t think of how your butt stuck out as you wiggled over that branch, or worry that your belly had rolls when your shirt flew over your head as you hung upside down.

Or maybe you did. Maybe you never climbed the tree because you were afraid of falling. Maybe you never ran in the field because you grew up in a city. Maybe you always feared the water or fell over without training wheels. Maybe, like me, you were the kid who couldn’t catch. Maybe all you remember is being the clumsy kid, or the chubby kid, or the shy kid, or the kid who was great at reading but always got chosen last for dodge ball.

But somewhere back there, maybe before memories, your body knew. Your body knew how to be free of your mind…to be free of others’ minds. Your body didn’t care how it looked, just how good the sun felt, how good the bath water felt, how fun it was to jump high and tumble low. How good it felt to be open to the possibilities…to be free of fear.

To be free of fear, we need to both remember our childhoods and forget them. You are worrying:

“Can I do this?”

“Will I be last?”

“Will I flounder?”

“Will I fall?”

“Will I have to walk?”

“Will I look stupid?”

“WILL I FAIL?”

The answers are yes, maybe, a little, possibly, at some point, who cares, and NO! You have already won the battle by starting, by trying, by striving. Now win the war by remembering when you were two, and forgetting when you were sixteen. Remembering when you did what felt good and forgetting when you started comparing yourself to someone else.

When I am racing at my best, I don’t think of who’s ahead and who’s behind. I don’t think of my heart rate, or my pace. All I think about is my breath. All I think about is the rhythm of my foot strike. All I think about is the feeling of flying…the feeling of freedom. There is no fear. I remember…and I forget.

Remember and forget, so that your kids can watch you and learn to do the same.

I believe in you.

Your kids believe in you.

You should too.

Living for the Long Term

2010-06-04T16:08:00.000-07:00

I've been running a lot lately. A. Lot.

Volume is my friend when it comes to speed. And it's funny how when you do speedwork, you get faster too.

I'm still very average, but for me I am a regular speedster. I'm looking forward to a fast 5k this coming week, but I am also running the 1st 5k of the NE Running Co. trail series tomorrow on the Gordon Trails just for fun. I won't risk a bum ankle this close to an "A" race, but I want that damn montrail t-shirt!

Some haunting pains in my hips that I think are related to my dysplasia are re-starting my consideration of a different course, as is the appointment I just made for my 2-year check with my ortho regarding my sacral bone spur and hip dysplasia. I've always used speed improvement and endurance accomplishments as major motivators for my fitness, but the reality is that, even with the tremendous improvements I've made in strength and functional stability, I'm in Sara's office almost every week, trying to deal with one or another painful byproduct of training.

The fact of the matter is that - through hard work and smart training - I am a good athlete. But I don't have the engine (56 ml/kg/min VO2Max), biomechanics, or efficiency to be particularly great. And it's time to accept that endurance training - at least the training it takes for me to do well - is counterproductive for MY body.

I'm not built for the volume that I've layered on my body over the last several years. I don't regret doing it - it built the health and fitness that has made up for a lifetime of sedentary behavior and poor health habits. It also gave me the foundation for a career that I love. But it can't be a way of life for me, because it both ends up excluding a well-rounded physical presence AND creates an overuse scenario that exacerbates my physical weaknesses.

That's not the case for everyone, and I don't at all dispute the choice for athletes to pursue extreme distances. The human body is capable of amazing things, and many individuals are blessed with bodies that can flourish under extreme duress and exercise volume. I do think that there are some huge dangers for the average age-groupers pushing the envelope at IM distance and ultra-running these days - skin cancer, overuse degeneration, and immuno-difficency being some of the major ones - but it really is dependent upon individual physiology.

My physiology is such that at 35 and only 4 years of serious training, some major drawbacks of endurance training are making themselves known, and I need to be wise in how I move forward. If I had all the time and money in the world, I'd simply add a personal vegan chef who made all my food from CSA scratch, a weekly massage, bi-weekly PT, 3 x restorative yoga per week, hire Jeremee to work me out 3-4 times per week, and move forward with my 55 miles a week of running, 200 miles a week of biking, and 10k yards of swimming.

But that ain't happening.

What is happening is that my hips and low back are going nuts under any duress on the bike. My flexibility in my hamstrings has gone to complete shit, and my hips have completely closed down under my current run volume. An interesting grating sound has begun in my right hip and my left hip occassionally gives way under a stabbling pain at random times when I'm WALKING. And all that with weekly PT and a post-workout rolling/stretching/self-massage/icing program that would put NFL lockerooms to shame.

Oh - and I'm starting to get that shriveled up, horribly over exposed endurance athlete skin. Yuck. I really don't want melanoma OR to look 20 years older than I already am. Given that I slather myself with sunscreen, I wasn't really comforted by the recent studies showing that sunscreen can actually increase the liklihood of certain skin cancers either. WTF???

Right now I am loving what I'm doing and plan on staying the course for my fall marathons, regardless of premature aging and the destruction of my hip joints that 5 more months of high volume will bring. But I've gotta acknowledge that this ain't sustainable for the long term.

If I ever want to do another IM, run the occasional marathon, or do some crazy trail race, I'm going to have to accept that I cannot make it a way of life or train up to my "potential." Because potential isn't reality no matter how much I wish it was. Instead it's another opportunity for me to learn how to help those in similar circumstances set and meet their goals safely and successfully. It's another opportunity for me to balance my physical being with my spirituality and intellect. And it's an important exercise is doing what's right in the long-term instead of what is desired in the short-term.

Over the summer I will do a few races, mostly all for fun. The trail series, Gloucester Tri, some team stuff with Pete, and an open half-marathon in September. Then Wineglass Marathon and/or Baystate and Stonecat, depending on how things play out. If it seems like it's within reach, I might try for a BQ at Hyannis. And then things will likely change significantly and my training landscape will shift.

-More yoga and less racing.
-More trail running and less road running.
-More strength training and less cardio.
-Less run speedwork and volume, and more zone 2/3 endurance swimming and biking.
-Less triathlon and more varied sports. Things I'd like to try or develop my skills in: tennis, serious skiing and snowboarding, adventure racing, skate skiing and x-country racing, mountain biking, pilates, and back country hiking/orienteering.
-More emphasis on nutrition for health instead of fueling for training and racing.
-More emphasis on optimal body composition for living versus for racing.
-Less emphasis on performance and racing, and more on long-term health and fitness. Those aren't mutually exclusive for most people, but I think they largely are for me.

Denial seems like a safe place, but it started posing too many dangers for me to keep hanging out there long term. Besides, there are so many exciting options if I can just embrace them and stay positive...right?

RIGHT????

:)

a

Happiness is...

2010-05-30T17:54:00.000-07:00

Being married to a great guy for 10 years. It's also kinda nice when that guy surprises you on your 10th anniversary with:

-manicure/pedicure/massage at a spa
-renting out the Newburyport Lighthouse for a private dinner
-having the florist copy your original bridal bouquet for the table arrangement
-overnight at the Garrison Inn
-Front row tickets to Ray Lamontagne and David Gray in August
-The sapphire and diamond ring you've always wanted

a

Sometimes Done is Better Than Perfect...

2010-05-30T17:39:00.000-07:00

That was the advice I was given by a professional I was talking to regarding Morgan's recent anxiety at school. Socially speaking, first grade is turning out to be tougher than the pirhana tank at feeding time. Academically, it turns out - shockingly, I know - that MY daughter tends to put A LOT of pressure on herself to be perfect. When added in on top of the snarkiness of some schoolmates and general malaise of the end of the year, Morgan seems to have lost her going-to-school mojo.

So while my first instinct is to storm onto the playground and start banging heads, I thought it might be somewhat more constructive to examine what I've contributed to the academic side of the problem.

Let's start with the fact that, as soon as the words, "You might want to talk with Morgan about the fact that sometimes done is better than perfect," were spoken I had dismissed them with a wave of the mental hand. Are you kidding? Sounds like the lazy path to mediocrity to me! Besides, why would my daughter feel pressure at school? She's brilliant! She'll be a straight-A student! She knows how to be tenacious in the face of a challenge!

Oh shit.

Well, one of the good things about fucking up as a parent is that children are resilient enough that you can usually keep them off the shrink's couch if you correct your course early enough. Not like, say, pottery or something.

So I sat down with her that night, handed her a worry doll and a journal, and said, "Morgan...did you know that sometimes done is better than perfect?"

She looked at me blankly.

"I mean, like at school. It seems like you are worrying a lot over your work and struggling to finish it sometimes because you think it isn't perfect. But if you try your best it will be just fine!" Brilliantly delivered.

Morgan has this expression where her eyes narrow just slightly and her mouth turns up a little on one corner. She uses it when she's being confronted with someone she's pretty sure is as dumb as a rock. I have that same look.

She was using it on me now.

"Mommy, if I do my best, that means not turning in work with wrong answers, just because I want to get it done fast. It's just hard, especially math. School isn't fun anymore because the work is so hard. But just because it's hard, doesn't mean I should stop doing my best, right?"

Fuck me. Why can't I have a dumb kid?

I showed her how to use the lock on the journal and gave her a little ritual to use with the worry doll when her stomach started hurting at school. Then I recited her the refrain that I'm sure she'll hear a thousand times from me: "I've gotta think a little more about how we should work this out, Morgi. But we'll get it figured out."

Truth is though, I've been struggling with that dilemma my whole life. I'm not so sure I can figure it out now...

That ability to suck it up and persevere even when your stomach turns inside out from nerves and panic and even physical pain - that got me through IMWI with a disk injury in 13 hours. It got me through a lot worse growing up.

It's also the reason I quit in the middle of power and 1-mile speed tests and long runs if I'm not seeing the numbers that I think I should. Perfect is better than done, so I'll just regroup and try again tomorrow. After I've laid in bed awake until 3 a.m. and worried about how I'm going to convince a client to recommit to their training. And then gotten up at 4:30 a.m. to re-edit the corporate sponsorship proposal for TriROK. You know, THEN.

Greg and Sara were up with their kids yesterday to hang. We got onto the subject of how traits you've always struggled with in yourself or your family suddenly show up in your own progeny. How sometimes you can suddenly see their benefit and come to appreciate them. Or not.

In this case, I already get the potential benefits. And the pitfalls. Because I live with them on a daily basis. How do you balance the drive to work hard (good) with the tendency to work yourself sick (bad)?

Here's what I finally told Morgan (paraphrased from a 75 minute conversation). I think that it's really important to choose the things you really care about and do your best at them, even if sometimes it's so hard it makes your stomach hurt. Just remember, each time you feel afraid or worried or sick, that no matter what your family loves you. And that its better to give it your all and fail, then to not try at all for fear of what will happen if you don't succeed (this was the conversation of cliches).

For everything else that you need to do, try hard, enjoy the process as much as you can, but let go of the idea that you need to be the best or do them perfectly. There are lots of things that we have to do in life that we might not like, but we end up learning a lot from them that we can use for the things we love (I believe I phrased this as, "veterinarians need to know math to write prescriptions for the animals they treat"). But we don't need to get every math problem right in order to learn the concepts enough to become good vets.

Or something like that.

God help my daughter. But she's helping me figure out a lot...

a

The Down Low

2010-05-24T16:42:00.000-07:00

I have the CUTEST dog...he's passed out at my feet as I write this.

Other cute things I have...a little boy who had an ice cream date with me today (I didn't get much ice cream but it was dreamy nonetheless). He suggested we sit in the aderondack chairs under the shade trees while he ate and shared the occassional bite. We ate here:

Eco-friendly, all-natural, AND the best ice cream EVER. Route 133 in Essex, right before the turn off to Crane's Beach.

I also have young lady who was incredibly patient with her mount today. Despite Apache balking at every turn and practically taking her skinny little arms out of their sockets a couple times, Morgan was SO loving and tenacious. She kept doing what she could do right to get over her poles, and then when it was clear that her horse was having a tough day, she volunteered to retire him and feed him carrots instead (he's 20+ years old and the SWEETEST guy you could imagine...something wasn't right with him today and I hope he's ok).

Morgi's been struggling with the work load and social issues at school lately (her problem? she's 7 going on 7.5 not 7 going on 15). So it almost made me laugh and cry at once when, as she's feeding Apache treats after her lesson she says, "I think he just had a tough day like I did. I wish I could come play with him tomorrow and make him feel better, instead of going to school."

To cheer her up, we went to the craft store and made her hat for the Emperor's parade at school. Nature girl that she is, her theme was a no-brainer:

Days like this remind me that I am am both lucky and wise: lucky that I have a choice to be flexible in my work so that I can be there for my kids, and wise in that I have chosen to eschew a lot of the "finer" things that I could "earn" with more work and less time with them.

I get hassled a fair bit for the fact that I don't "invest" in better bikes and gear, travel more, or move off the main drag that we live on. That my kids go to public school and there is no boarding school in their futures. That we drive beater cars, mow the lawn ourselves, and that I don't take on more clients.

But the fact of the matter is, is that we have CLOSE to an ideal balance. I want my kids to see me work my ass off to make a difference in people's lives, whether it be my clients or the Foundation. I want them to see my intellect and work ethic in play. But just as important is the fact that they know, for BOTH Peter and I, that because we don't HAVE to work 70 hours a week to put food on the table (like many folks do), that we'd rather have less nice things and more time with them.

I think they get that, and it's more valuable than anything else could ever be to me.

On the non-child side, things are happening too. JCC proved a couple of things:

a) you can't improve at tri if you only practice one discipline
b) running your ass off CAN keep a damn good level of cardio fitness - good enough
to hold steady or just lose a LITTLE at your biking and swimming

I'm enjoying enjoying riding my bike. That means riding for fun. When I want to go hard - I go hard. When I want to admire the scenery...I check out houses (that one's for you Cindy). I'm also enjoying continuing to swim VERY little.

And I'm enjoying running.

That reality, combined with the fact that PF, Sara, and a smart training plan continue to keep me running injury free (knock on wood), means that April will continue to have a marathon focus through the fall and winter. On the docket:

1) Wineglass Marathon in NY early October
2) Baystate in MA late October (in case Wineglass sucks/doesn't happen)
3) Hyannis in February

Hoping to build to a BQ at Hyannis, and stay strong and focused in the meantime. Running, and a little biking, swimming, and PF, is fitting into a busy work/family schedule quite well, so I'm doing about 45 miles a week right now, and feeling REALLY strong. Next up is the Hollis 5k in early June.

I've also been thinking, and have decided that I cannot compromise this blog with the political correctness to make it my coaching blog. So I will have a new blog, entirely based around mental and physical training for endurance racing, coming out soon. Look for it. I'll post a link here when it's finished.

Finally, Janda Ricci-Munn and I have teamed up with Seaside Cycle to offer resting, biking, and running metabolic rate testing using their state of the art metabolic testing equipment. You'll finally know for sure how many calories you need to consume for racing and weight management, as well as optimal fueling strategies for races of different lengths and paces.

We are currently refining our testing protocols to give our clients the maximal information possible. If you are interested in nailing down your caloric requirements for weight loss and racing at a discounted price, just email me at april@trainingmeetstlc.com.

a

Post Crappy Month Thoughts

2010-05-18T15:45:00.001-07:00

There it is...I've survived another April 1st - May 15th. And only thanks to a lot of support.

My sisters and brothers have too.

I am proud of us. And grateful for those who lent a shoulder. You know who you are. :)

It's funny, this journey is certainly one that teaches priorities. I'm getting more and more clear on mine.

1. My family - Pete, the kids, my sibs, my in-laws, cousins, aunts, and uncles - they are amazing. And I am grateful for them, even when we don't keep in close touch. It's taken a long time, but I finally feel grounded in family.

2. My dearest friends. Some are near and some are far, some are old, and some are new, but the ones that care REALLY care and they know best how to get me through. I'd like to think that I reciprocate too. It's funny, each May, I depend on one in particular to get me through. This year it was my friend Jen Cann, and she was stellar. I am blessed to have her and too many others to name.

3. My work. I had a TriROK Foundation meeting today with a school nurse at an elementary school in Peabody. I ended up totally bonding with her and the principal over the issue of adult-onset-athleticism. They are both so invested in helping the children in their school get healthy - and willing to work hard to get there. It gives me so much faith that we can accomplish our goals. Meanwhile, my athletes are getting stronger and faster, even as they learn to confront the inevitable setbacks that come with time and racing. Some are looking at major life changes. Some are just enjoying the ride. I feel honored to be a part of their journey.

4. My training. The races this weekend made stark what was already in the back of my mind - tri's aren't where it's at for me this year. I don't have 20 hours a week to train, and the time I do have, I want to enjoy. And that means biking for fun, and running for a purpose. On to the fall marathons, I say.

One more point that the last month has made to me: I am grateful that training and racing is only one aspect of my life - one that I enjoy - and not an escape. Even in the ugliness of the last month, I realized that I have nothing to escape. I have a wonderful life, and I enjoy almost every aspect of it, even when I think it's killing me! I see so many around me training to escape the realities of their lives. It used to be that way for me too. That's why I'm so grateful that now it's just another opportunity that I have...not an obligation, not a diversion, not the only source of my happinesss or self-esteem. I get to define myself, not rely on triathlon to do that for me, and that is a happy realization for me.

Another happy realization - the next anniversary I've got to deal with is a glad one - my 10th wedding/35th birthday. Yay!

a

Strike a Pose...

2010-05-17T19:07:00.000-07:00

In Mary's and Kristina's tradition of today, I am now allowed to gloat a bit:

Here's how yesterday went down:

1st AG JCC triathlon at 9:20am in 1:07 (not many women 30-34 decided to get up early on a Sunday morning and race apparently). I win war of attrition.

Jump in G's car at 9:50am after packing up all our crap, race up to Amesbury. Quickly volunteer and plead to secure race slot in last wave.

11:30ish am head out on 10k road and trail/obstacle course Mud Run.

Finish in just under 50 minutes. 9th woman overall of 138 (not including teams). 6th of 34 in age group.

HA! I am slow, but I endure. So there.

a

Racing Fun

2010-05-17T07:27:00.000-07:00

The best kind of friends know you JUST a little better than you know yourself sometimes.

Or maybe its that they can acknowledge about you what you don't want to admit.

I needed to have fun this weekend, a whole lot more than I needed to race. And a whole lot of friends made sure that's what happened.

So I "raced" and I had fun. By "raced" I don't mean I took it easy. In fact by the end of the mud run yesterday I was about to die. But it was FUN. How could it not be? The first couple of miles on the road sucked. I kept thinking, where are my trails and obstacles??? I don't WANNA run fast! I also kept thinking, "where's the friggin' water???" One water stop over 6.2 miles does not a happy April make. That being said, that's really the ONLY thing that wasn't totally awesome about the race.

After you turned onto the trails, the fun started. Rolling hills, BIG hills, tires, river crossings, walls, hurdles, hay bales, and finally a HUGE, FAT mud pit you had to crawl through to get to the finish. I almost peed myself laughing watching the teams in costumes take on the obstacles.

I have no idea how long it took me since I didn't start my watch, but I think somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 minutes or so. By the end I was dead tired and totally dehydrated, but happy. Very happy.

Plus I got to see Heidi, Liz, Roxanne, Sean, and Kate totally disgusting in their costumes at the finish...it was worth that alone.

Congrats to Greg, Jeremee, Brandi, and Steve for putting on such an awesome race.

Speaking of awesome races, Andrew Dalton and the JCC do run such an great beginners' sprint tri with the Triathlon By the Sea. This year was no exception and the weather cooperated with a beautiful day (if - of course - a little warm for my tastes).

Too many friends were there to recount them all, but everyone seemed to exceed their expectations/PR and had a great time. Greg and I learned that while you probably can't PR tri's on run training alone, at least you won't embarass yourself.

Right, Greg? :)

Although I pretty much mailed my bike and run in, it made the whole thing a lot more enjoyable, I must say. More importantly, it made completing the Hoppin' Mad Mud Run an hour later POSSIBLE. I'll go back to puke pace next time. Maybe.

Congrats to Marnie and Kevin for their overall wins. You guys are getting crazy fast. Years of dedication are paying off, which is nice to see. Helps the rest of us keep the faith!

Back to training...hopefully taking the fun of racing with me!

a

Bearing Down to Bear Up

2010-05-14T06:38:00.000-07:00

I’m still waiting.

Fifteen years later and I’m still waiting for this time of year to be more about life than it is about death.

When I talk about Steven to my kids, I am relentlessly positive. He was so young and undeveloped in so many ways that I wonder what I project upon his memory and whether that will add up in Morgan’s and Sam’s understanding to anything more than a patchwork of platitudes. I don’t want to martyr him, since martyrs are so distant from what it is to be human.

I’ve always wanted them to know the human that my brother was.

But I suppose that’s the rub right there, eh? They won’t ever know him…in some ways I clearly didn’t know him. That’s the definition of this tragedy – he didn’t really get a chance to know himself. At thirteen who does?

So I settle for remembering, and try to stack those memories towards the joyful things. But it doesn’t work on the anniversary or his birthday, either one. So I remember what my mother’s best friend said to me once, “You bear down so you can bear up. That’s all you can do.”

I don’t want to race this weekend. I’m a bit of a wreck, I’m anemic, I’m hormonal, I’ve barely been on the bike, I haven’t been swimming, my hip hurts, and I’m sure I can manufacture a few other excuses as well. I would rather crawl under a rock and start again next week, anniversaries and such behind me. And maybe I will. But probably not. Because I started doing this exactly 4 years ago, and the reason is no less valid today than it was then: I celebrate his life by living mine as fully as I can.

And that sometimes that means bearing down so I can bear up.

You are loved and remembered always, Bro.

a

P.S. While most folks avoid it because it's such a depressing topic, I really recommend that everyone read the new book "Myths About Suicide" by Thomas Joiner. Especially parents. Not only will it change how you think about the epidemic and how to care for survivors you may know, but it could literally help you save a life...maybe even one of your kids. It stands conventional wisdom on its head using years of painstaking research. It's worth the effort.

My (not-so) long run with Dorthea Lange...

2010-05-08T08:36:00.000-07:00

My long, easy run this morning turned out to be neither. I was slow, but slow was still hard, and mile 6 I just said screw it as it was clearly to be nothing more than a calorie burner. And given the food I ate yesterday, such a run clearly had its place.

I had been looking forward to running to clear some head space. Sometimes you can get it all sorted out on a long run. Sometimes you just twist yourself into tighter knots. Today was somewhere in the middle.

I just kind of let my mind roam. And this is where it went:

I feel badly that I slammed Mothers' Day in my last blog post. Mothers certainly deserve a day. So do Fathers. So does everyone really. We all deserve a little recognition and a little space to celebrate. I didn't mean that we don't.

But it's just that we tend to make holidays around things that we honor. And things we honor, we put on pedestals. Things on pedestals tend to fall and get broken. Or at least not look nearly so good when we take them down and turn them over in our hands for a good look. We want Hallmark cards of moms cuddling cute babies, but we don't buy many with Dorthea Lange's* iconic look at motherly love:

Speaking of things we don't have days for, how about a national janitors day? National hotel maids day? I spent years in high school cleaning at night. We cleaned mostly commercial and municipal buildings. I saw a lot of porno mags in bathrooms, but it was pretty easy work compared to friends of mine who worked in hotels. Now that's an occupation that they won't have on that TLC show "Dirty Jobs" anytime soon. Pig gutters? Sure. Sewer pipe welders? Absolutely. Hotel maids? America doesn't have the stomach for that.

I used the money from cleaning to buy my first pair of running shoes when I was 16. There were very few runners where I lived (they were called joggers) but they all had one thing in common: they were successful financially and had time on their hands that they could spend jogging. I would watch them go around and around on the indoor track at the Y where I lifeguarded and taught gymnastics classes. They wore bright neon colors and seemed so healthy and tan and carefree with giant walkmans to which they would bob their heads through their whole run.

It took me two months to save the $32 for those shoes. And I used them to run exactly one time.

It was just before closing and no one was around, so I went up to the indoor track. I think you had to go around something like 400 times to make a mile. I got through exactly 2 laps. Then I sat down, took off the shoes, put on my sandals, and left my running career to languish for another several years.

I wasn't rich, and I wasn't runner. It actually made a lot of sense at the time.

There's a poem that I have to paraphrase because I read it in high school, and I've never been able to find it again, but it came to mind on my run this morning, when I thought about those shoes.

It went something like:

"But the green plants couldn't make it on that lot,
Not long, anyways.
Too much broken glass and broken sunlight.

I always thought though,
They'd done pretty good to make it out of the ground at all.
And if they were picked up and put down where it was that plants could grow,
They would be even stronger than most others.

Or maybe that's just how all plants grow."

That last line always stuck with me, and has always helped me keep my friend Chip at bay. But it was the middle lines that came to mind when I thought of my clean, white, $32 Nike's. It was pretty good to just want to be a runner enough to buy those shoes and try. At least that was good enough then. And it must have been a strong enough desire that when I DID get to a place where I could have the space to try to run again, I took up the gauntlet again.

I think it's why TriROK matters so much to me. All plants grow. It's just a matter of moving them from the junkyard or vacant lot and surrounding them with the resources to help them flourish. Not all of them will survive the transplant. And no, you can't rescue them all. But get to as many as you can, and you just might end up with a forest of healthy, happy kids someday. Kids with room to run.

BTW, if anyone knows the author or title of that poem, I'd love to know...

a

*Who placed her own children in foster care so that she could take a job with the government to record her iconic photo's of the depression. Those photo's are largely credited with creating the public support for many of the programs that eventually lifted some of her subjects from their abject poverty. She received custody of her children again when she completed her assignment.

The TriROK Website is Live!!!

2010-05-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

www.trirok.org

Many thanks to ALL the people who helped us with it, especially Jason Morris who volunteered ENDLESS hours to put it all together and Jim Badershall who did the kick-butt design :)

a

Rainy Rides

2010-05-04T17:31:00.000-07:00

I wish I had a still of the radar map that appeared when I went on weather.com at 6pm. At issue was whether we'd just get a little rainy ride, or be beaten to death by hail and 60 mph winds.

It looked like a pacman bearing down on Cape Ann, with a big angry yellow and red eye of severe weather. A little alarm flashed in the corner: Severe Thunderstorm Warning for Cape Ann, 5 to 8pm.

Chip and I decided that we needed to ride anyway, and because I was not coaching and am willing to risk litigation from friends, I talked a couple of friends into riding with me. It was awesome - there was lots of rain, a little thunder, and a couple of gusts - but required some extra caution. I'm not there yet post last year's crash, so I liked riding the gap for this one. Made for a slow ride, but sometimes speed matters less than good head space.

We finished up with a 20 minute TT effort on the trainers to stave off hypothermia, cooled down and stretched. And Chip was put back in his place by a little honest effort :)

Thanks to Mike and Beth for being good sports and enjoying a fun rainy ride...

a

(re)Introducing Chip

2010-05-02T20:53:00.000-07:00

Some chips look like this:

Or this:

Or this:

But that's not what my chip looks like - I have one of these:

Only it looks like this:

World - meet Chip. Chip - I'm sure you remember World.

Most of the time, I keep Chip to myself...just my (not-so) little buddy. This time of year though, Chip has a way of making his way out into the world and introducing himself to those who don't know him, or who may have foolishly forgotten him.

This time of year sucks, always, because right around April 1st every year I realize that I cannot mentally teleport to the other side of Mother's Day, that fabulous made up holiday that earns Hallmark millions, really does nothing for mothers, tortures any woman who has wanted children but does not have them, marks the anniversary of the day that my brother Steven left this world, and serves to remind me in no uncertain terms that having no relationship with one's own mother SUCKS. And for reasons I will not share with the world (I know - stunning - I have boundaries) this little run-up to the big day has sucked even more than usual.

So while I usually have laser-focus on what is good and right in life, until about June 1st, I will be walking hand in hand with Chip. So don't expect the warm and fuzzy version of April, that you may or may not have come to expect. Or even the poorly filtered mouthy April that you probably expect....no, it will be even worse for a while. I'm just warning you.

Because I just looked over, and in fact at this point Chip actually looks like this:

Chip and I...we have a lot of things in common:

We are both fairly rough around the edges.

We're both far too opinionated for our own good (and the good of those around us).

We're blue collar.

We don't seem to fit in neatly. Anywhere.

We think we're really smart until our stupidity trips us up (daily occurance).

We are mostly empathetic, but also very impatient with anyone who we perceive to not have their shit together. We are the exception because we have BETTER reasons for not having our shit together and MORE of them.

We believe that life is better compartmentalized.

We believe that pretty much everyone beside us are cry-babies and ought to shut up and listen to us complain instead.

We feel very VERY sorry for ourselves right now.

I hope you've enjoyed meeting Chip and feel comfortable with him, because he will be sticking around for the next several weeks at least, and that's if we're all lucky.

In the meantime, Chip will be helping out me at the track, on the TT course, and on the first open water swim of the year...he is one HELL of a training partner.

a

The REAL Training Partners

2010-04-25T17:04:00.000-07:00

For those of us who are married with children, and yes – I echo the show without irony here, spouses are absolutely, WITHOUT A DOUBT the most crucial variable in our training. And there are a LOT of variables:

• Guilt at diverting energy and time from parenting, spousing (new word), domesticity, and work
• Childcare
• Expense
• Time
• Guilt
• Sleep
• Time
• Recovery
• Childcare
• Psychology
• Motivation
• Injuries
• Guilt
• Technique
• Nutrition
• Time
• Group Workouts and Classes
• Equipment
• Guilt
• Training partners
• Childcare
• Biological cycles (for us women anyway)
• Training spaces and places
• Coaches
• Guilt
• Time
• Childcare

The list goes on and on…and it’s mostly guilt, time and childcare.

A spouse’s attitude and support can go a LONG way towards reducing the number of times those variables negatively affect training and racing. Or they can go a LONG way towards elevating them to the level of dream crushing stones around our necks.

We often hear how selfish we are as triathletes, runners, cyclists, swimmers, etc. But it’s just a hobby, and sometimes an occupation (a mostly healthy one at that – for us AND our families). I can’t remember whether it was Donna, Mary or Kristina who pointed this out on their blog, but we don’t hear about how selfish artists are, or gardeners, woodworkers, golfers, perfectionist organizers, chronic redecorators, and movie buffs for that matter.

In all those cases you can sometimes do them WITH your kids, and sometimes you need some alone time to get them done. Same goes for training. If most of us don’t have an outlet outside of family and work, we are apt to go nuts. So the bottom line is that you need your spouse’s support if you are going to be a whole, happy person. And that goes whether you are a gardener or a triathlete.

When it comes to training, that support can take the form of sharing child care, endorsing paid childcare when needed, being the cell-phone SAG car, and providing the understanding to put up with our inevitable highs and lows. My most successful athletes, like me, have a partner who – at least most of the time – provide all of those forms of support and more. Granted long talks – negotiations – often have to take place during each off-season about planned goals, balances of time, energy, and power, and financial constraints on equipment, training, and racing. But once those have been settled, it’s up to both partners to stick to the contract and help each other out.

This is ESPECIALLY true when BOTH parents are working, training, and racing. It’s hard, but it is possible with a lot of love, patience, and marital therapy ;) . And notice I keep using the term “spouse.” That’s because the issues apply to both men and women. It applies to working and non-employed partners. It applies to the primary AND the secondary childcare provider.

Unfortunately, as a coach and a friend, I also keep seeing the opposite. Spouses who say they support their wives and husbands in public and even agree to their goals in private. But when it comes down to it they not only DON’T support their partner’s efforts, but often times actively sabotage them.

Refusing to “babysit” the kids – are you kidding? You can’t babysit YOUR OWN CHILDREN. The very insinuation makes you a crappy parent. Sorry. But get over yourself. And no I don't care how many children you have...you chose to have them and leave them in your partner's single handed care all the time. Grow a pair (ovaries OR testes) and recognize that it’s your RESPONSIBILITY and should be a JOY (even when it kind of sucks). If it’s not – get therapy. And no – staying late at work expressly to avoid taking care of your children while your partner does a workout is NOT earning a paycheck…it’s being a jerk.

Refusing to foot the bill for quality childcare based on the guilt trip “sitters aren’t as good as a parent.” Then why aren’t YOU at home with the kids? Why is the sitter OK when you want to go out? If you can’t IMAGINE trading places with your spouse for a week, then maybe it’s time for you to own up to the fact that they need a little more support.

My personal favorite though, is the passive-aggressive sabotage. Not coming home when you say you will. Scheduling activities for the whole family when you know your spouse has a long ride on the schedule. Planning flexible work trips for race weeks…really?

Let me be clear…I’m not talking about athletes who have lost perspective and are neglecting their families and responsibilities just to train endless hours. I’m not talking about clients who are simply trying to shoehorn in too much. I’m talking about people who get up at 4am, get on the treadmill at 10 pm, and otherwise do crazy things to bend over backwards to keep their 5-15 hours of training a week from affecting their families.

The worst part? I’d say that about 40% of my friends and clients are in exactly this position. That sucks.

Obviously, there are periods in your life as an athlete when you have to step back and acknowledge that you just can’t put the time in that you want to for the distance you want to…hence why there will be no ironman or ultra-distance races for me this year (or probably next). My husband was so scarred the last time around that the negotiations have resulted in our agreement that with work and non-profit responsibilities added in its no time for 20 hour training weeks.

But generally, I support Pete in his manic search for activities to fill every moment of his day, and he supports me in my quest for athletic glory. Or at least my quest to avoid athletic embarrassment.

He’s a great dad, and it behooves my children to spend time in his company. Alone. Even if he does not do things the way he should…er…I mean the way I THINK he should. Anyway.

I hear all the time how lucky I am to have him. And that’s true. But sorry folks, it ain’t ALL luck. Pete, me, almost ANY of us – we’ll get away with as much as we can. If the balance of power is off at home, hard questions need to be asked.

Including the big one – why the hell isn’t your spouse bending over backwards to make you happy?

Because let me tell you this…I figuratively crawl under barbed-wire, jump through loops, and do back flips on a regular basis to ensure that my husband’s (mostly completely unreasonable) expectations are met and that he is (mostly…ok partly) happy (some of the time).

So I expect the same in return.

And you should too.

a

Gold Stars All Around

2010-04-25T11:42:00.000-07:00

Or forget Corinthians and just run the race so you win period. Congrats to Erica who placed 2nd in her age group, and Heidi who placed third in hers. Zoe and Liz joined in the ass kicking, although I now know ONE athlete who will never again decide to see how just how all out fast she can run 3.1 miles...three days before she's attempted to PR a 5k. Just sayin. You know who you are (Zoe). :)

Thanks to Kevin Reen for coming up with this race as such a great way to honor one of our fallen soldiers. Hope I get to run it next year myself.

a

You Get a Gold Star...

2010-04-23T17:12:00.000-07:00

Hmmm...an eventful week.

After 2 years of nagging, Pete finally went to town on the treehouse...the man is something else. This thing will be amazing when it's finished.

I'm still sorting through a lot of things from this week including how it's possible to PR and yet be so incredibly demoralized (hint: put in an effort so painful that you may never revisit the distance again, yet average a pace that the jazzercise instructor in front of you can apparently chat through).

I was proud of the effort that I put in, a level of sickening pain that I've basically blocked from my mind, but that ended in me puking on my brand new shoes. It earned me what I wanted, a 7:16 pace over 3.3 miles (they upped the course to detour some construction...at least they were up front about it unlike SOME races I know). But the idea that I would actually vomit for a 7:16 pace and a loss to a 1980's aerobics diva...well that's a bit hard to swallow at this point.

Don't get me wrong...I'm proud. My first 5k after having Sam I ran a 10:15 pace per mile. Four years later, I'm 3 minutes faster. That being said, I've worked really hard for THREE MINUTES over FOUR YEARS. I'd like some MORE speed please. For free. Thank you.

Other complicating factors led to a fatigued and unenthusiastic me mid-week, but fortunately I have some awesome friends and clients who bucked me up with some astute and well-timed pep talks. Yes I know...the coach gets the pep talk from the athlete? In this case, yes. Thanks especially to Sara, Dave, G-Force, and Donna who loaned me her Garmin when I freaked and couldn't find mine....you're the best D.

Then we went to Nantucket for 24 hours with the kids and it was the break that I needed. I went for a long run there yesterday morning and it was just what the doctor ordered, and allowed me to figure much of my angst out.

Here's my problem: I LOVE what I do. I work SO hard to be a great coach and the rewards are ENDLESS. I am constantly reading, asking, studying, questioning, experimenting, consulting, thinking, planning, creating, writing, talking, teaching, and WORKING. I feel like it is one of the greatest gifts of my life, to be able to help others uncover their athleticism and deepest strength. I love the blend of science - I am captivated by the physics, chemistry, and biology behind human performance -, creativity, psychology, and logic. I am desperately trying to convince Pete that we can somehow swing me working towards my PhD in Psychophysiology or Exercise Physiology and Psychology over the next 4-5 years.

The ONE thing that jepardizes my success? The fact that I'm a very average athlete.

It's hard to get someone to take a chance on you if you can't even make YOURSELF fast. I LOVE coaching athletes who are faster than I am and have coached several, but many athletes aren't comfortable with that. So I find myself racing under the pressure of my name as a coach to earn my credibility.

Makes me want to "retire" so that my lack of athletic ability becomes a non-factor. Except for that pesky fact that I am addicted to training and racing. So that's not really an option.

SO instead I'm making my peace with my physiology, racing my heart out, and letting my coaching skills speak for themselves. I'm not the coach for everyone anyway, and maybe this is a good way for me to pre-screen my athletes...I'm most psyched to work with folks who are willing to think, work, and train outside the box.

Speaking of which, I've got four clients racing the Gold Star 5k tomorrow in Swampscott. I'm proud that I can look them in the eye and say, not only do I know that they are incredibly well prepared to outperform their expectations and previous performances, but that I know exactly how hard it is to give everything you've got for 3.1 miles regardless of the outcome.

So just remember..."Run the race in such as way that you might win." -Corinthians. It ain't that easy, but it IS that simple.

a

Contemplative Conundrum of the Day

2010-04-18T13:23:00.000-07:00

Cut myself slack or suck it up?

As I focus more and more on maximizing short course running speed, as opposed emphasizing distance, I come squarely up against my greatest athletic weaknesses and failures. Sometimes its motivational. Often, it just sucks.

If I focus on where I've come from, I'm a happy camper. If I look at where I wanted to be by now, I'm discouraged. I can't seem to find any in between.

I get it...I know why I suck at short course running. It's that horrible blend of equal parts aerobic capacity, endurance, threshold, and economy. The bike, which I do not love, will always be my strength, because it steals my biomechanical inefficiencies away. It locks me into place and dictates my positioning and the extent of my motion. There is only so far my form can degrade before it comes up against the metal dictates of cleat and pedal, seat, headset, and frame.

I don't have the Vo2Max to be able to waste precious oxygen on spastic form. I certainly don't have a high enough threshold. The faster I run, initially the better form I hold. Thus why my mile time (6:32 at this moment) is so incredibly out of sync with the rest of my running paces. But as I fatigue, I can't hold that form, and the vicious downward spiral of inefficiency ensues. That's why the wheels keep coming off the bus 2.5 miles into my 5ks.

And this is where the debate comes in. Some days, when I recount the list of things I have to overcome in my head, I feel so successful. Scoliosis, hip dysplasia, sacral deformity, disk issues, femur angle, posterior tibial tendon distension, bike crash...Damn, shouldn't I just be happy I CAN run? That's ALL I wanted last August, when I couldn't hobble through more than a couple miles without brutal pain.

But then I see people with far worse, and they are so much faster. And I've made progress, albeit slow, to compensate for those problems...strength training, stretching, rolling, form drills, focused training, PT, dynamic warmups, etc. So if I just work even HARDER, then I can get better. But I just want to be better NOW. Do I really need to train MORE!? Harder?!?!? Can't I just have one thing come easy?

Be content or be competetive? Which brings more satisfaction in the long run? I want to be a fast runner. How hard should I push to get there? When are the numbers you have in your head inspiring and when are they the albatross around your neck?

I always tell my clients beware of moving targets. You set your goal, and then as you train and get better, it starts to move so you feel like you can never meet it. Last fall, my goal was to be able to run again. Over the winter, it became to run the B&A trail marathon. Then it became run the B&A at a 9:05 pace.

I met all those and it's like they never happened. Just like IMWI...I didn't finish an Ironman so much as I failed at going sub-13 hours.

Now I'm killing myself over how slow I feel at short course AND contemplating a run at a BQ. Motivation? Or a surefire path to disappointment? How much time should I spend looking back before I look forward? How much should I be competing with myself versus others?

I keep coming back to my old mantra of unsatisfied contentment. Clearly, I've come a long way. Clearly, I can still get a lot better.

There simply remains a lot of work to be done.

With all the other priorities in my life, it's a question of how this one ranks. And I'm not sure at the moment of that answer.

But I do know one thing...it's awfully nice to be in this conundrum. Not CAN I run, but how FAST can I run. That's a lesson from this past year that I will never forget, no matter whatever else I struggle with...and it's a lesson that I need to carry with me long term. I do NOT want to imagine a life without running, no matter how slow. No amount of speed now is worth not running later.

Guess I gotta get creative.

a

Ouch

2010-04-17T14:16:00.000-07:00

1 mile warm up
4x50 meter strides
12x.25 mile @ 7:10 pace on 30 seconds jogging rest
5x.1 mile @ 6:00 pace on 10 seconds rest

Getting very itchy to try another 5k...

a

2010-04-15T14:09:00.000-07:00

I saw a woman today who HAD to have been at least 70, wearing a white denim jumpsuit, a bright neckscarf, and a cowgirl hat.

She looked fantastic.

A few days ago at the store, I saw a woman, my age in a mini-dress. She looked...uncomfortable. Her bod was AWESOME but she kept pulling at the hem, making it clear that she was more worried than proud.

The contrast reminded me on this poem, which I read in high school:

Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple

By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people's gardens

and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Good quote from my calendar...

2010-04-12T14:50:00.000-07:00

"When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose?'"
- Don Marquis

Remember, no matter how hard you've worked in your life, it's taken a lot of other people's work, inventions, support, and contributions to get you where you are...and lots of people, some of whom you don't even know, who are working hard at this very moment need you to give back so that they can make it too.

Doesn't matter whether it's sport, work, housing, or simply a helping hand, everyone needs someone to make a go of this life.

a