Woodard Wednesday: Watch your language

I am becoming increasingly convinced and irrefutably sold on the importance of language.  

And even if I just used the word “irrefutably” wrong, who cares?  It sounds cool when the first sentence is about language.  I needed a big word.

What I mean by that is not the particular language that we speak, but the language we use with ourselves.  And yes, in case you are wondering if this is going to be another Oprah-like blog entry, brace yourself for something AHHHH-MAAAAAA-ZIIIIIING!

I am a professor in a doctorate physical therapy program.  It is my honor to teach one of my favorite topics in the whole world, orthopedics.  Another name for the class: Evaluation and Treatment of the Musculoskeletal System.  In real person terms that means I teach about muscles and bones, and what to do with them when they say “ouch.”

On day one, I start with an activity that has nothing to do with muscles and bones, but also everything to do with muscles and bones.  Stay with me…

On that day I find the biggest muscle bound beau I can find in the class.  In PT school, there is usually one guy or gal that looks like they lift Volkswagen's for fun on the weekends.  I’m happy that my fitness capabilities give me the option to run away from them before being crushed or tossed about like a doll.

I ask that student to stand in front of the class and hold their arm out.  They are given the following information and instructions: “I am going to attempt to push your arm down several times.  I am asking you to not let me win at all and to use all your strength to keep your arm lifted as it is now.  No matter what, do not let me win.  Do you think you can do that?”

At this point, the class is interested to the point of visible salivation.  Look at how scrawny Dr. Woodard’s arms are.  This is going to be EPIC!  I’m convinced they are all planning my violent demise but just won’t admit to it.  This gives them a glimmer of joy, as surely the result of this contest will be a humiliating defeat for the guy grading their exams.

I now tell the student with his arm raised, “as we do this first test, I want you to think very clear thoughts.  Those thoughts need to be: ‘I am strong.  There is now way my arm is going to drop.  My muscles are huge and powerful.  I am a badass and can do anything.”

Without fail, I can hang from this outstretched arm, jump up and down on it, bite it, and absolutely not move the thing.

I then tell the student, “as we do this second test, I want you to think very clear thoughts again, but this time those thoughts need to be: ‘I am weak.  Even though I am going to try to hold my arm up, I will fail.  My strength is not enough to hold up to this challenge.”  I remind them they are not supposed to let me win and push their arm down, but to think those negative thoughts.

Without fail, I can break their position using 2 fingers.

Naturally, the class is devastated that I was not humiliated.  Vultures…

Did this super muscly weight-lifting student just get less strong?  Did his muscle atrophy and shrink?  Why did he get weaker, just by thinking weak thoughts?

The answer: our thoughts create more of a reality in our lives than another other force conceivable. 

That is true for this students shoulder and arm muscles; it is also true for every damn thing we do from moment to moment.  It is that simple. 

My question to you, and something I’d love to actually hear back about: what thoughts are you thinking that are making you weak?

“I’m too fat.  I hate my life.  The people at work are out to get me.  My boss is a douche and is trying to make me miserable.  I’ll be single forever.  I’ll never pay off my debt.  This race/run is going to be slow and painful.  I won’t qualify for Kona today.  That sushi last night gave me salmonella, or at least herpes.” 

You say those things, you are those things. 

Why are we so nasty?  Not to each other, but to ourselves?

Sports psychologists have known this since sports were invented.  When you have positive psychology, you perform better in sports.  Check out this link from the American Psychological Association: http://www.apa.org/helpcenter/sport-psychologists.aspx

So, how does this work?  The answer is clear.  It’s pixie dust…

The actual answer might be more complicated than that, but that chat could go on for chapters and chapters, and frankly, I should be working instead of writing this blog.  Ain’t got no time for that.

The simple answer: your body is under the control of your brain and nervous system.  Obviously for simple things like wriggling your toes, but also for the amount of force production and efficiency of movement.  The strength of a muscle contraction is directly controlled by how many neuromuscular junctions are firing per unit area of muscle and dumping excitatory chemicals into each other.  The more "happy juice" your brain squirts into a muscle, the stronger it will contract.  The happier your thoughts, the more "happy juice" you've got at your disposal.  See, biochemistry is actually not all that hard.  

You try to run a race saying internally that you suck the whole time, guess what?  You are going to suck.  You try being the student at the front of the class told to hold up their arm while thinking you are too weak to do so, your arm will fall. 

You try being a person living a happy and fulfilling life, but all the while repeating to yourself how miserable you are and how there is no hope, misery and hopelessness will continue.  This isn’t my opinion, it’s just a truth.

I challenge each of you readers to do the following.  Every day, physically write down 3 quick things you are grateful for in your life, and then one short paragraph about something happening in the last 24 hours that made you happy.  If it takes more than 3-4 minutes, you are trying too hard.

Here is mine from today:

Grateful for:  1) my adorable dogs who slobber on my shoes 2) my career that I freakin’ love 3) people who take the time to read my blog

Happy moment in last 24 hours: today I made my students laugh.  During the course of an intense lecture with really heavy material, I got them to laugh at me or something I said.  I was able to share a sliver of knowledge to make them better healers someday, but I did so in a way that they were able to smile.  What a gift is that for me to have access to?  And even better, I got to laugh right with them.  They might have been miserable all day, but in those moments, we were all laughing.  We were happy together.  Because of their presence, I had joy.  And perhaps even momentarily, my presence brought joy back to them in kind.

That’s it.

There is a growing body of literature and science on this stuff.  The science of happiness and positivity.  You want to change your life, read this book: The Slight Edge by Jeff Olson http://www.amazon.com/The-Slight-Edge-Disciplines-Happiness/dp/1626340463

Go ahead, tell me I’m a hippie and smoked too much dope in college and have clearly shorted out my brain.  Tell me all this is crap and that thinking happy thoughts won’t make your life better.  Tell me about how miserable you are and there is no hope. 

Just don’t be upset that after you’re done telling me that, I smile at you so genuinely and purely that you are convinced I am mentally compromised. 

I am happy.  My life is unbelievably amazing.  I have everything.

Those things are true because I, you guessed it, tell myself they are true every damn day.  I do so without pause and without wavering conviction.  Why do I believe in it so much: because telling myself these things has manifested exactly what was promised: happiness, joy, contentment.  

I had a hard enough life in year's past.  I am grateful for those times as I learned the power of sadness and depression.  But I am more grateful to be what I am now: the thoughts in my head and absolutely nothing else.  

Thank you for reading...

Woodard Wednesday: why 2015 was a splenectomy

My last post here was December of 2014.  This might be a time to tell you I needed a little break?

Ok, let's call a duck what it is:
...delicious.

I was burnt out.  And not just on writing a blog, I was burnt out on a lot of things.  I've been in hiding, and for that, I do not apologize.  But I will admit to missing you, quite terribly...

me hiding, or just a stupid reason to put an elephant pic in my blog

So where have I been?  Let me explain.
No, there is too much.  Let me sum up.

Last you heard, I had just completed another Ironman and damn near died.  While Cozumel is a beautiful place, I'm happy that it didn't become my final resting place.  At least not yet.  I barely trained on the bike, and surprisingly had a tough day.  Funny how that works, eh?

What you didn't read was that during the summer of 2015, I had yet another disastrous performance at Ironman Mont Tremblant.  Don't get me wrong, I finished the beast.  But it was ugly.  Kardashian ugly.

Why?  I didn't train.  I wonder how many times I need to show up on race morning being SIGNIFICANTLY undertrained to realize that it is a stupid plan.  More so, I wonder what would happen if I showed up that day well trained.  I'm pretty sure I would win.  Just sayin'

2015 will forever be known to me as a year of transition.  I was the proud co-owner of a PT clinic called F Squared PT, which after eons of thought and deliberation, I decided to leave.  It was quite amicable and I love those I left more than bacon.  Nonetheless, leaving your job of 6 years, especially one that you started from scratch, was tumultuous.

I also worked like a maniac during all of 2015 with my mentor, LJ Lee, out in Vancouver towards a manual therapy certification as a physio.  Academically and emotionally, one of the hardest experiences of my life.  I'm still waiting for the sedatives to wear off to ascertain if it was worth it.

Oh yeah, still "working" on that PhD.  Expected dissertation defense date: who freakin cares anymore.

But the juicy part of 2015 surprised me more than anyone else, dare I presume.  Late October I found out that after 11.5 years, I was getting a divorce.

Have you ever seen your spleen?  I mean, like actually seen it physically?  That would be pretty surprising, right?  Yeah, late October was like seeing my spleen.

I was in a position where I was afforded the opportunity to ask myself some questions.  Not big questions like, "why do my lips look like that," but even bigger ones like, "what am I doing with my life?"  "What makes me happy?  Truly happy?"

The answer, in it's detail and splendor, will be laid out on these pages and posts to follow.  I won't ruin the full surprise now, but here is a teaser:

Personal growth, helping people grow professionally and personally, laughing once a day so much it hurts, being the recipient of slobbery kisses (from dogs and others), fitness, being a triathlete again, doing nice things for people because I like to, remembering that each moment is a treasure.

That, dear friends, is a recipe for some self love and healing.  I plan to detail my progress in the weeks, months, and years to come.

So I wonder, now that I just got all vulnerable and showed you my spleen, what makes you happy?  Truly happy?  What are you living to do?  What is your purpose?  If quite suddenly much of your identity was taken away from you, what would be left?  Who would you be?

I hope you can answer those questions.  But my guess, not to get all professor on you, is that many of us really don't know.  We are just surviving - aimlessly floating through each day, so caught up in the stresses of life and the labels with which we identify, the simplicity of the morning sun shining on our face is a miracle unrecognized.

My eyes are open.  I see that morning sun, and that bitch is bright!  But you know what?  I look damn good in shades...

To 2016, a year of growth and discovery.  An opportunity to do things that scare us, to fail, to learn.  I for one plan to live fully, without reservation or crippling fear.  I look forward to telling you how that unfolds.

Loving you like flowers love the rain,
Dr. Chad

Ironman Florida 70.3 Race Report

After arriving in Florida on Friday, I had grand plans of possibly going to the race site and scoping things out or just having a day out on the town to myself.  What needed to be done was some tedious paperwork and note writing to insurance companies.  Instead, I slept.  I arrived at the hotel at 2pm, opened my laptop, and just as quickly closed it.  What was supposed to be a 30 minute cat-nap turned in to a full afternoon and evening of pure sluggery.  Is “sluggery” a word?  Slug-like sounds lame, so I hereby deem “sluggery” a word.

Moving on.

Saturday, the day before the race, proved to be a bit more eventful than originally planned.  Here was the plan:

1.     Check in at the Ironman village

2.     Rescue my bike from Tri Bike Transport and say loving things to it

3.     Go for a quick spin around the area on said bike as I had yet to actually ride it outside

4.     Resume sluggery in some form

The actual plan went something like this:

1.     Check in at the village

2.     Drive the full bike course to get familiar with it (good idea)

3.     Rescue bike as planned

4.     Become witness to the chaos that is my life…

The chaos started when I noticed my front brakes appearing to be too loose, almost like they had been released to change the tire.  The problem was they hadn’t been released.  I tried to fuss with it for a spell and quickly felt inadequate.  It doesn’t take long.  I then found a smart looking beau (and by smart, I think you know what I mean) and he too felt inadequate.  No problem.  I went over to the mechanic and asked him to take a look.  I was told the wait was 2.5 hours and a flat charge of $50.

What the what?  I was thinking this would be an easy fix, something akin to tightening some gadget or doohickey.  2.5 hours and $50?  No, no, I said.  I’m sure I can figure this out myself.

As it turns out, I couldn’t.  Neither could an impressive collection of cheerful athletes and spectators.  At one point we had somewhere’s around 10 people poking and prodding my poor bike.  It was like a multi-user prostate exam.  How embarrassing.  In the end, we failed.  Sheepishly I walked back over to the mechanic and got back in line.

While in line I called my coach.  That is what he is there for, right?  Random questions asked over the phone about mechanical issues with a bike.  He was concerned that it was not a simple fix at all but rather that my brakes might need to be bled.

What is this, medieval medicine?  I thought we were done bleeding people (and bikes) centuries ago.  When mentioning this to the mechanics they woefully reported they didn’t bring their “bleeding kit” with them.  I waited for a punch line but they kept a straight face.  I took it to assume there really was a thing called a bleeding kit. 

And here’s where the story gets annoying… (too late).  After some serious consideration of doing the race with only my rear brakes intact, and intense convincing by my coach that this would be a bad idea, I packed up the bike and drove to a bike shop an hour away for a bleeding session.

Well praise the Lord, after all that my brakes were working again.  The only problem was that it was now approaching 7pm and I had yet to resume the sluggery.  Dammit!  Oh well, I guess this means there will be no test drive of the trusty steed.

Fast forward to race morning.  You know when you hear something so distinctly that you would swear you heard it one way?  Such is the case with how I heard the closing time of the transition area in the morning.  I swear the dude said transition would close at 6:45am.  As it turns out, he apparently said 6:25am.  Imagine my delight to hear as I was leisurely walking towards transition, bike and gear bag at the ready at 6:20, that transition was closing in 5 minutes.  I believe I had a quick outburst of obscenities, likely poisoning the innocence of  near passersby.

In a mad dash I ran to transition area pushing down at least 3 elderly volunteers, dug out my junk from the gear bag, wrestled a pump away from a weaker looking athlete, and for good measure ran in 2 small circles while waving my hands in the air.  By the skin of my teeth, I made it in time.  How relaxing.

My swim start was 7:42.  Translation: stand around and count how many times you have to pee before getting in the water.  The final tally was impressive if I do say so myself.

The Swim:

We all know I’m not a great swimmer.  Middle of the pack is usually about right for me.  I’m not interested, or capable, of fighting it out with the strong swimmers.  Nor am I interested in getting clobbered repeatedly in the face by a stray foot attached to a breast-stroking swimmer in the back.  The joy of waved starts is that you’re surrounded by all of the above.  Fast people who started after you who find the most direct path to the finish line is directly over your body, and slow people you’re passing who have fantastically dense calcaneal bones that smartly find their way to the bridge of your nose at regular intervals.

That said, it was refreshing to see different colored caps now and then that started in front of me.  It was one of the more physical swims I have had in recent memory, which may be due to the weird course.  Instead of a big “U” shape, we went in a big “M” shape.  Lots of buoys to navigate = lots of swimmers in a small space.  There were more fists to the back of the head and heels to the face than I generally prefer.

All in all though, not a bad swim.  I climbed out of the shoreline sludge in 46:42, about what was expected.  Wouldn’t hurt my feelings to shave off 5-10 minutes though in future races.

The Bike:

Beginning my inaugural outdoor ride I was filled with excitement to see how my training was going to affect my performance and get a feel for my badass new bike.  Right off the bat, I noticed 3 problems.

-in my morning rush to get in and out of transition, I forgot to fill my water bottles.  First stop in 15 miles…I was gonna be thirsty.

-despite my seemingly strong efforts, I was getting passed like I was barely trying.  That hurts the soul as much as the legs, I find.

-my oh-so-fancy powermeter capabilities were not working.  All winter long figuring out my FTP and training zones, designing a race day plan on ideal wattage, spending embarrassing amounts of money to set this up, all for not.  Looks like I was on my own and had to rely on perceived exertion and cadence.

Not much I could do about problems 1 and 3.  I’d just have to get water later and I’d just have to deal with not knowing my exact power.  Problem 2 though was becoming rather vexing.  I felt like I was working somewhat hard and I was getting passed over like the jello mold at Thanksgiving.  My instinct said to push harder!  My training was solid and I should be able to keep up with these people, right?  But Lord knows, I will never forget the lesson learned in IMMT by pushing too hard on the bike early on.  I kept my perceived exertion where it should be and ignored the troves of athletes passing me.

My patience lasted for 5 miles. Then it stopped lasting.  Assuming my training was what it should have been and that something was wrong, I pulled over.  Imagine my delight at the irony of what I found.  My front brake, that just yesterday was not capable of reaching the wheel, was now ever so slightly constantly touching the wheel!  No wonder I had been passed so many times.  I was pushing against a lightly deployed hydraulic brake for 5 miles.

I unlatched the wheel, gave it a shimmy and shake, and saw I was in the clear.  Smooth sailing from here on out, right?  Nope.  Not 2 minutes later I was feeling slow again.  Pulling over, I see my brakes back to their old games.  I unlatched.  I shimmied.  I shaked…shooked…shook.  On the road again and feeling good.  It didn’t last.  For whatever reason, my newly fixed front brakes were now too fixed.  I had not choice but to release them.

The irony is delicious, no?  After all I went through the day before to make sure the damn things were working only to have to release them during race day and rely solely on the rear brakes.  To answer the age-old question: can you do a half Ironman with only rear brakes? The answer is yes.  Probably still better to have both sets, just sayin’.

With the stupid brake thing now fixed, it turns out I am kinda fast on the bike!  I was passing people, always saying cheerful things to them as I did, and was feeling great.  I wonder how my time would have been different had I not started the bike portion as I did, but I was still pretty happy with my result.  I averaged 19mph and came back to transition in about 2:52 bike time.  Not bad for an April race.

The Run:

Apparently I was not able to accurately estimate what 200 watts should feel like.  I started the run on, how shall I say, jelly legs.  Perhaps due in part to the amount of jelly donuts I had eaten over the winter, but presumably more so due to pushing a bit too hard on the bike.

I also hadn’t ran/rode the run course assuming it was going to be flat.  It’s Florida.  There are no hills in Florida, right?  You see where this is going.

The second half of the run loop (of which there were 3 loops of the run course) was indeed wonderfully flat.  The first half of the loop had some bitchin’ hills in it.  Add that to jelly legs and weather and humidity I hadn’t felt since last August and you can imagine how delightful my run was. 

My expected average pace was an 8:30 min/mile average or better.  I came in closer to 11:00.  There just wasn’t enough gas in the tank and those hills got walked.

As it turned out, the run was my highest age group ranking of all 3 disciplines.  Apparently all of us struggled with the run, which helped stop the hemorrhaging of confidence I felt at race’s end.  Still would have liked to pull in at least a sub 2-hour run.  Ended up being a 2:17 half marathon.

Post race pondering:

As a whole it was a great race and I’m proud to have finished where I did this early in the season.  I have a lot of work to do between now and my second attempt at the beast that is Mont Tremblant in August. 

The good news is that this race doubled my enthusiasm and energy to keep pushing forward.  This time last year I was just really starting my training, which never really reached respectable levels.  This year, in a word, I feel like I’m crushing it.  It’s a nice change to remember why you love something.  It’s a nice change to remember I love being a triathlete. 

Next event is a 7-day bike ride from San Francisco to LA, covering 545 miles in June.  The real countdown however has a big Canadian mountain at the top of it.  4 months until Ironman Mont Tremblant.  I plan to take no prisoners and eat no poutine. 

Ok, that’s a lie.  I’ll definitely eat poutine.  Maybe I’ll wait until after the race though…

Training report: Just like a fish

I found myself in a strange environment a few times during these last couple of weeks.  It was like a normal room except that I usually had to be in a basement to find it, there was a strong smell of gross chemicals, and there was a huge hole in the ground with a lot of water inside.

Perhaps unrelated, but there was also an alarming number of people who clearly had issues as children when it came to sharing toys.

That's right people...I have been swimming!  Perhaps this doesn't seem to warrant celebratory exclamation marks, but I assure you, it does.  I am a lousy swimmer and to be frank, rarely do I enjoy a session in the pool.  I feel like it's just like running, only soggy and without any of the joy.

The rest of these past 2 weeks has been a well distributed smattering of running, which is FINALLY happening outside again, and bike riding indoors.

My only concern is that I have a race this coming Sunday in Haines City, Florida to the tune of 70.3 miles.  My training has been pretty spot on, but I have yet to ride my new bike outdoors to date.  I'm not so crazy about having the first long ride I do on this new bike be during a race, but what can you do?  I'll ride some the day before the race to work the kinks out and hopefully not bust my face on the road.  However, I guess if there is face busting to be done, better to get it over with before race day!

So here's to a week of tapering and mental preparation.  My body is where it is going to be on race day and I have to say that I am pretty excited to be heading to my first race of what potentially is going to be a fantastic season.

As for what I expect, it's hard to say.  Partly this is just the first race of the season to shake off the winter cobwebs, but I would be lying to myself to say I didn't have a tentative goal in mind.  I surely would like to cross that line in 5:30 or better but you never know what you'll face on race day.

Should you find yourself either racing or spectating next Sunday in central Florida and see a moderately  tattoo-covered athlete looking like he's questioning his life's choices, say something encouraging to him.  Possibilities include "you're doing great," or "finish strong," or "love-handles and thinning hair are super sexy."

Wish me luck!

A run in solitude

As one of my 25 jobs I like to dabble in, I spend some of my life as a professor in a doctoral program for physical therapy.  Being a runner/triathlete/idiot myself, I took the initiative to start a running club with my student body.  What could be better for a group of future physical therapists aside from becoming, well, PHYSICAL?

Monday was our first night and I was so excited!  Things didn't go exactly as planned.  Below is an email I sent out immediately after the first meeting that I thought might resonate with some of my readers here:

Tonight's run was fantastic. A full loop of Central Park was taken on, and pretty fast I might add. The only trouble: I was the only one there. WHOMP!
Many of you have expressed interest in joining but raised concerns you wouldn't be able to keep up. Nonsense! 
Allow me to tell you how I started as a runner. The winter of 2009 I decided to sign up for my first marathon. To give you perspective, I had never at that point run more than a mile continuously. In middle school we had to run a mile as a fitness test; I came in dead last...and I cheated! I hated running, so why did I sign up for a 26.2 mile race? 
No clue. 
My first training run was 1 mile. I almost died. My long run for that first week was 3 miles. It was the saddest thing you've ever seen, I assure you. I ran when I could and walked when necessitated. It was all kinds of ugly but I got through it. 
So if you're worried you aren't fast enough, will feel embarrassed, will run like a cartoon version of yourself, or are afraid to start, please just picture me during my first week of training. You have nothing on the spectacle I created. No chance. 
For most journeys the hardest step is the first...
Great, now you've got me speaking in catch phrases worthy of bumper stickers. Who's embarrassed now?
If you've never run in your life aside from dashing to catch the train, you'll be fine. If you used to run but haven't laced up in 20 years, you'll be fine. If you're worried you'll get hurt, I know a terrific physical therapist. If you're faster than me, I'll be fine...mostly. 

I plan to be consistent and trust that I will eventually give the gift of running to some.  Only thing better than the feeling I get from running will be the feeling I get knowing I've shared it.

Onward!

Training report: week's review

It's the beginning of another big training week.  What a lovely time to look back at the blister forming, saddle sore inducing, and ever so slightly sun-burned cheeks of last week.

It was overall a great week with some solid sessions.  Without intending to, I hit a new PR for a half marathon distance.  I then felt like I was about 104 years old for the next two days, but it was worth it.

Monday: speed interval run day.  Man I hate these workouts!  "Here Chad, please sprint as fast as you can for the next 15 minutes.  Puke into your eucalyptus towel and repeat 2 more times."  Who designs these things?  Painful as it was, I was able to hold a sub-7 min pace for my fast intervals.  Not great, but not terrible either.

Tuesday: indoor bike ride.  I know people hate indoor rides, but I have to say that in most ways I prefer them to riding outdoors.  Let's face it that after the winter we had, I barely want to drive on these Northeast roads.  I certainly am not interested in sitting on that TINY little saddle and slamming my way through potholes the size of Rhode Island.  Lord only knows where that saddle would end up by ride's end.

Wednesday: resistance training day.  How can a guy who is in such good shape be in such bad shape? 20 minutes into the workout, I was certain my legs would spontaneously detach themselves in an act of defiance and revolt.  I was planning to run afterwards.  HAHA.  Instead I did a hot yoga class.  Equally punishing but requiring less muscular effort.

Thursday: another indoor ride.  Numbers are consistently improving.  Funny what happens when you actually listen to your coach...

Friday: long run!  I was asked to run for 1:45 so I set out to run along the riverside park on the westside of manhattan and take advantage of the relative springy weather briefly afforded to us miserable winter-warn souls.  This park is about as flat as Florida, but I did battle a pretty good headwind on the second half of the run.  I had a great run and was reminded why I love running so much.  At 1:44 I had hit exactly 13.1 miles and felt that was a good place to stop.  My previous 1/2 marathon PR was 1:53.  Nice!  Imagine my continued delight to afterwards notice I had the slightest bit of sun on my cheeks.  First sun of the season = vitamins for my soul.

Saturday: I could barely get out of bed!  I guess I ran harder than I thought I did.  I still hobbled my way onto the bike, but it was a recovery ride at best.  I was consistently 20-30 watts lower than usual, but understandably why.  Still felt good to get the legs moving.

Sunday: I took a day off.  I sat like a champ for 2 hours at a movie theater, and then went home to clean my disease ridden apartment and do some paperwork.  The body needed the break, oh yes.

What was missing from my week?  Swimming...  I truly intend at the beginning of the week to hit my swims, I just seem to miss them somehow.  Thank goodness I'm starting a group swim class this coming Sunday.  That may be all that get's me into the water!

Maybe this would make me swim faster?

Another big week starting today and now less than 3 weeks until my first race of the season: IronMan 70.3 Florida.

Should we have a prize for the person that guesses closest to what my time will be that day?

Afraid to post

What is it about the fear of failing that can be so crushingly powerful?

Let’s back up a bit.  About 4 months ago I started training in earnest for this upcoming year of racing.  When I say “in earnest,” assume I am implying a normal training schedule for someone preparing for an IronMan race: controlled chaos at seemingly impossible levels of effort.

I sat down with my coach, told him what my goals were for the next 2 years, and he crafted a smashingly clever plan to get me there.  It was then my subsequent intention to log on to my fancy blog and tell you trusty readers all about my experiences: the successes, the whopping failures of days, the changes in my fitness, triumphant battles with our worst enemy…chaffing.

Good plan…I failed.  In fact, I have posted almost zero entries about these months of training.

Where did things go wrong?  Absolutely nowhere.  And that’s what hung me up.

Historically speaking, I will sign up for a race and tell the world about it so I become motivated to train.  That motivation usually lasts for a couple of months and then I start to unintentionally taper (AKA: come up with excuses as to why I am missing my training).  “I’m too busy, my patients need my undivided attention, I feel like I’ve used sandpaper to cover my bike saddle.”

Seeing that as my normal pattern, I was worried I would do the same this go ‘round.  How embarrassing for me to start posting weekly entries on my blog about my training triumphs to only have them gradually die out due to lack of training compliance.  I was afraid of failing with my training.  I was afraid of having to explain to my readers why I stopped training.  I was preemptively embarrassed about writing that all too familiar blog entry about how bad a race had gone because I hadn’t put the work in to prepare.

Flash forward to today.  Today I hopped on my bike, connected to a jazzy computrainer, and performed my 4^th FTP test to mark my fitness.  For those who have done this, you probably just had a vomit burp.  For those lucky enough to have never experienced an FTP test, imagine running at almost a sprint.  Now get gradually faster for the next 20 minutes solid.  If you don’t die while doing it, you get an average number at the end representing how much hell fire you can hold in your legs for 20 minutes straight.

Here were my results from the 4 FTP tests:

December 2013: 192 Watts.  Not bad I thought, but I hadn’t anything to compare it to.  I stupidly asked what pros hit and immediately felt short and unattractive.

January 2014: 215 Watts.  A clear improvement.  My training was paying off.

February 2014: 222 Watts.  A little better, but I was on my new bike.  Sounds like a good excuse, but the fit was totally different from the old bike and I had some accommodating to do.

March 11, 2014…

Knowing this was a 20 minute bout of nasty, I wanted to start my average number fairly high and see what happened.  As the testing went on, to my surprise, I kept getting stronger.  I was working like mad, but the number kept getting better.  Had my 4 strong months of training actually paid off?

I finished the test with a manly grunt, and once the dizziness subsided, I looked at my number.  After doing some quick math, my new FTP was 260 Watts!

That’s still not where I’d like to finish, but it’s a huge jump in 4 months.  Based on these numbers, and assuming the stars align like the IronMan Kona gods demand, I should be able to take around an hour off of my bike time as compared to last year.  That's not a typo, I said 1 hour!

So yes, I have been a bit hesitant to post about my training during this off-season.  I was afraid of failure to the point of inaction.  I was doubtful enough of my own ability to stay dedicated that I made the choice to remain silent.

Today’s results made me feel like I’ve finally got a hold on this training thing.  I find I’m spending less time worrying about what will happen if I fail.  I’m using less energy coming up with reasons why I missed my workout.  I’m wasting fewer resources rationalizing why this year won’t be my year and how I can look forward to future seasons.

And with all of this time to stop fearing failure, I wonder what will happen when I begin to fear succeeding? 

Winter blues

Dear people of the warmer southern states, also substitutable with any warm client readers, you are turds for living in such a reasonably climate-influenced location.

There, I said it.  I am actually resentful that you were smart enough to live somewhere nice while my clearly questionable life choices have led me to a city where the temperature was in the teens this morning.  With wind, single digits.

Why am I whining so much you ask?  Well other than being so good at it (it's on my resume), I was scheduled to run this morning.  1 hour and 40 minutes of pure happiness.

What did I do instead?  Snuggled with my pups and caught up on The Voice.  It was just too cold out to be running and the thought of 1:40 on a treadmill makes me compulsively want to dig my liver out with a wooden spoon.  Damned if you do, damned if you do...

How then, I'd like to hear, do you all deal with the crappy season as an endurance athlete?  I can handle an indoor bike ride, and in some ways prefer it to outdoor riding, but the running is tough for me.

Do you just suck it up?  Do you have a brand of clothing you wear that actually works in these temps?  Do you preemptively light yourself on fire beforehand?

My first race is just over 5 weeks away and some running needs to happen.  While puppy-snuggles are truly superior to most other things in life, a better triathlete they will not make.

Pondering, shivering, scheming...

An article published on interconnectedness

Look how famous I am.  The following is an article I wrote that was published in the upcoming issue of OnFitness magazine (March/April 2014).  I hope the paparazzi doesn't start hounding me again…

Before getting into the definition and discussion of interconnected body regions, let’s first review situations or client experiences that proved to be especially challenging.
Have you ever had clients say things like, “this side of my body just doesn’t work and feel like the other side.”  Or perhaps you give them an exercise but regardless of all the cueing and imagery you can think to offer, their form remains poor.
At times, some clients will complain of discomfort with an exercise that seems mysterious.  Take planks for example.  Some clients complain of low back discomfort with planks that doesn’t improve with positional changes, form corrections, and so on.
Instead of assuming this person or client just shouldn’t do that exercise or eliminating certain movements from their program, consider the following.
When one portion of the body is out of alignment, or not in its neutral position, other parts of the body will have to compensate for that misalignment.
Take for example the foot.  If you intentionally take someone’s foot and externally add a structure that forces that foot into excessive supination, there will be resulting compensations throughout the entire body.
The supinated foot will not remain the only changed body part, but rather will cause a subsequent external rotation of the tibia.  That will in turn cause an external rotation of the femur.  Then the pelvis gets a crack at compensation, and in this particular scenario, will often rotate forward on the side of altered position.  Now you’re up into the spine, which can present with any number of compensations.
That’s the cornerstone of the discussion of interconnectedness.  When one body part changes or is out of proper alignment, the rest of the body must adapt to that new reality.
        The leg bone’s connected to the hip bone
As in the case above, excessive supination of one foot can have a profound effect up the entire biomechanical chain.  For this person described, they might be complaining of lower back pain due to the compensatory rotation.
You can give them the best core stabilization program in the history of exercise, but until the actual problem is fixed, in this case the foot position, their back pain will remain unchanged.
Thinking back to those tricky clients or scenarios that were not changed with proper cueing and attempted form correction, it is reasonable to assume there is an area of the body that is misaligned and therefore causing the problem.
        How do you find the problem?
The answer to this question can get highly detailed and challenging for even the most senior trainers and physical therapists.  Pinpointing the singular biggest positional fault within the entire body can seem a daunting task.
Initially, start with standing posture.  It seems like a terrifically simple thing and potentially not what you’d consider a productive training session, but huge secrets are hidden in someone’s posture.
What you are looking for is symmetry and neutrality.  Think of the body segments as building blocks.  If the blocks are stacked perfectly atop each other, the vertical forces passing through those segments will be distributed evenly.
If you take a stack of blocks and offset one block in relation to the other, that same vertical force will cause the whole stack to fail and come crashing down.
The same applies to the body.  If a person stands with their thorax laterally translated in relation to the pelvis, any vertical forces will cause a site of failure.  Failure equals pain.
As is possible, design your early sessions or part of the prescribed routine to correct these postural abnormalities.  Sometimes simple corrections will keep a person moving a pain free with incredible efficiency.
After standing posture is observed, you should also look at the body alignment during the activity of interest.  If the problematic exercise is planks, assess the posture of the body in that particular position.
Again, what you are looking to find are areas that are not symmetrical and neutral.  Not surprisingly, these problem areas can be anywhere from the toes to the top of the cranium.  What you’re looking for however is the big thing that seems incorrect.
Is the pelvis rotated?  Does one side of the rib cage seem higher than the other?  Is one knee slightly bent when compared to the other?  Is one scapula in a different position than the other?
Once you find what seems to be the most significant positional problem, try to fix it.  This can be done giving the person verbal cues, or even taking a photo of the problem and showing it to them.  Making their brain aware of what their body is doing can make huge changes.
You can also use gentle tactile cues.  If their pelvis is rotated, gently attempt to rotate it back and ask them to hold that new position.
The possibilities abound and time should be spent working on the most notable areas of poor alignment.  If that magical cure doesn’t happen with one correction, get creative and try another.
The body wants to be properly aligned.  It’s how it works most efficiently and when you give that gift to a client’s body, it will be thankful.
Experiment with interconnectedness and how small changes make large contributions to overall biomechanical neutrality.  The answer to those tricky clients is often easier than you might have thought.  Just step back, take a look, and don’t be afraid to make changes.