I slept in yesterday morning and decided to do my first day of training early in the evening. The first part of this training block is also taking into account the Capital to Coast Relay. There’ll be some running in the heat during that race, and at least one of my legs will be in the afternoon or evening (depending on how we’re collectively pacing).
I also started my new fueling regiment. I don’t want to call it a “diet.” Lots of lean proteins, vegetables and lots of water. I thought I was already drinking enough water. That was apparently not the case. I found myself going to the bathroom every hour. Oh well, that’ll give me another excuse to walk away from my desk for a bit.
I also went for a 1-mile walk. That wasn’t really part of the plan, but I had to go to the library yesterday morning, and after I was done getting a new library card, I decided to go for a walk since I was already out. That walk was calm and refreshing and, it was at that point, that I immediately decided that I’m going to bake in walks into this training plan. If anything, just for the mental health benefits.
I’m going into a marathon training block tomorrow and I’ve guiltily waited until today to try to get “fit” again. Ever since having run the Boston Marathon, I just kind of let myself go. I eat whatever I feel like eating. I like to think I maintain a pretty healthy diet, but I’ll be the first to admit that I can shove crappy and unhealthy foods and drinks down my gullet.
In the Summer of 2010 I weighed the most that I’ve ever weighed. I’d stopped drinking alcohol the year before and replace alcohol with sugar. Up until that point, I’d never tried Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Once I discovered Ben & Jerry’s, I’d plow through a pint every single night. To put that into perspective, a pint of Peanut Butter Fudge Core has 1,260 calories, 99 grams of sugar (166% of your RDA!), 78 grams of fat (100% of RDA). And that pint a night was on top of whatever the hell it was that I’d already eaten all day. For a while there I remember that I’d go to Jimmy John’s and eat a J.J. Gargantuan, which is 2,240 calories.
So I got out of the shower one day and looked at my butt-naked body in the mirror and was just really disappointed in what I’d let myself become. So I scoured the internet for a diet plan that I could get behind. I found one, and I started that diet the very next day. I had to cut out the Ben & Jerry’s (and all refined sugars) and start eating lean proteins, cleansing vegetables, healthy carbs, lean fats and lots of water. And I had to control my portions. I was really committed, so it wasn’t hard for me to adjust to my new lifestyle. And it was probably a month later that I decided to introduce exercise into my new lifestyle. Probably because I had more energy due to the change in eating habits.
I found that diet plan this afternoon and I’m going to start it again. I’ll modify it a bit because I need more calories, but it’ll be a fantastic foundation for rebuilding my fueling. And I think that’s the keyword. I haven’t been “fueling” my body recently like I had in years past. I’ve been taking in quite a bit of junk. It’s time to cull the junk.
I also bought Shalane’s “Run Fast. Eat Slow.” cookbook a couple of years ago. I cracked it open when I got it, but have never made a single recipe in it. Tomorrow I’m going to make the “Can’t Beet Me Smoothie.”
I guess it’s a rite of passage. Eight years ago I let Maly cut my hair. I have no idea why I let her cut my hair. It was one of those ‘on a whim’ decisions. My hair was longer back then as I’d probably gone a couple of months between haircuts. These days I get my haircut on the first of every month, and I just get it cut short so I can go four weeks between haircuts. This month I was already a week an a half past due in getting a trim, so I decided to let Mara cut my hair. And she was pretty excited to do it.
One of the sad things about getting older and watching your children grow older is that this’ll probably be the last time my kids give me a haircut. Well, I guess it doesn’t have to be.
Six weeks ago, my friend Shelley asked me if I’d coach her for the Monterey Bay Half Marathon. Shelley has already run a handful of half marathons and a full marathon. So I asked her why she wanted me to coach her. She told me that she wanted to change things up. She wanted a new plan and new regimen. That seemed reason enough for me. My next question was, “what is your goal for the race?”
“To finish the race and come away healthy.”
Finishing a race healthy (uninjured) should always be at or near the top of the list for an athlete.
I then asked Shelley is she had any interest in attaining a personal best at Monterey Bay.
“Nah.”
So it was decided, pretty much right then and there, that my not-so-hidden agenda would be for Shelley to get faster. Maybe she won’t get a PR at Monterey Bay, but my goal is for her to run it really well, and come away healthy, happy, and able to recover faster than she did after her best half marathon.
I created a 16-week periodized training plan that includes mileage, workouts, tempo runs and long runs.
I had to travel out of state the week that Shelley’s plan started. We maintained communication via text messages. On her second day I had her doing hill repeats. This was her feedback:
“Hills are speed work in disguise” -Frank Shorter
I was still out of town for her second week into the training plan. Tuesday consisted of a 4×400 track workout. Shelley hadn’t done a track workout in a really long time, and she wasn’t sure how to maintain my prescribed pace during the workout. Interval training feedback:
I was back in town for the following week and she invited me along for the Tuesday hill workout. I was a few minutes late, and she had already banged out one repeat. I ran the next repeat with her, and then told her I needed to catch up. So I picked up the pace and tried to catch her in the next 5 repeats, but I was already a half mile behind, so it wasn’t until the final downhill that we finally reconvened.
The fourth Tuesday brought us back to the track for a 6×400 workout. I wanted to be there for this workout so I could pace Shelley. As we walked to the track, I told her that this workout was going to be: Hard, hard, hard. Harder, harder, harder. We were going to work on turning our legs over quickly and increasing VO2 max.
She was raring to go, so we started our first 400. My watch was having a hard time calculating pace (it told me we were running a 10 minute pace. We needed to be running an 8:15). So I settled into what felt like an 8:15 pace. At the 300 meter mark, my watch told me we were running a 7:45 pace.
We settled into our 2-minute recovery and I asked her how that felt. “That was okay. A little faster than the last time I did 400’s, but it was okay.”
I smiled and said, “Good.”
Recovery time was over and we started our next 400. As we started I told her we were going to go a little bit slower. She liked that notion. But we still kept a 7:45 pace. And we kept a 7:45 pace on the third 400-meters.
We’re into our recovery and Shelley’s breathing hard. Two minutes goes by quickly, and I remind her that this is the part where we’re going to go “harder, harder, harder.”
And it’s at that point where my watch beeps, telling us it’s time to run, and Shelley says, under her breath, “fucker.”
I laugh and settle us into a 7:15 pace, and we finish the last 200-meters at a 7-minute pace. It’s at this point Shelley’s done expressing her feelings under her breath. “DAMMIT. ASSHOLE. HATE. YOU. FUCKER!”
Two more to go and I remind Shelley why we’re doing this. The track is like the gym. We’re here to do work. It’s going to suck, but it’s going to pay off. She wholeheartedly agrees, and then calls me asshole again.
The next 400-meters start at a 7-minute pace and we quickly settle into a 6:45 pace. “FUH. ASS. UGGGHHHH!!”
Two minute recovery before our final set. “I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you. Fucker.”
Last lap. We start at a 6:45 pace and I’m cheering Shelley on. “You got it. You got it! Push push push! Finish strong! Keep going! PUUUUUSSSSSHHH!!” And we end just shy of a 6-minute pace.
As we waddle our 2-minute recovery, Shelley takes her time to catch her breath and chug a bottle of water. High fives are exchanged. I was really excited for her and I commend her for her effort. I can easily see that she has the runner’s high thing going on. She calls me asshole again and tells me that I’m not invited to track workouts anymore.
I was diagnosed with a sprained anterior talofibular tendon on May 19th after twisting my ankle a few miles into our Grand Canyon rim-to-rim run. About a week after the sprain, I honestly wished I would’ve just broken my damn ankle. I’ve broken both of my ankles before and between us, I think this sprain is more of a pain in the ass than a fracture. I think “sprain” is too weak of a word. The medical community should call it what it is: Incurable Shitty Ankle.
A week after the sprain, my ankle was still the size of a softball and there was no way in hell I was going to try to run on it. The physical therapist, also a runner, who saw me in Flagstaff, told me I’d be looking at at least a month. And then he gave me my printout of stretches and strength-training exercises.
Now I’d been through physical therapy in the past with a hip injury. Based on the extensive research I’ve done by interviewing other casual and amateur athletes, 99.3% of them don’t follow through with their prescribed physical therapy. I am part of that 99.3% and didn’t continue with my hip exercises.
This time I decided I would actually do my PT because there’s absolutely no way I can run through this injury. I’ve only been doing these exercises for 11 days, and I have no idea how I’m going to fare when I return to running, but figured I’d memorialize the rehabilitation here with the hope that I might help you, fellow injured runner, overcome your Incurable Shitty Ankle. Note that a lot of these stretches and exercises are are supportive in nature, and focused in the hips and glutes.
Standing Hip Abduction (each leg 10 x 3)
Sidelying hip abduction (each leg 10 x 3)
Clamshells (each leg 10 x 3)
Weighted hip arches (10 x 3)
Supine active straight leg raise (each leg 10 x 3)
Ankle dorsiflexion and plantarflexion (each ankle 10 x 3)
I guess it’s a part of the circle of life; a parent, or parents die. You have to change the way you talk about what you’re going to do for the weekend. It used to be, “I’m going to my parents’ place this weekend.” Suddenly it changes to, “We’re going to my mom’s place this weekend.”
And then, on day, you find yourself thinking, “Where am I going this weekend? We’re going to Mom’s place. But it’s not ‘home’ for me.” That cycle continues. You’re not really going home; not to the home you know. I guess you’re going to your mom’s home. Your home is what your children know as ‘home.’ You have to make a home for them now.
Click the photo below to look at the photos of our last days at Mom’s place in Cat Spring, TX.
On May 18, 2019, Patrick, Michael and I made the trek to the Grand Canyon to run rim-to-rim-to-rim. Unfortunately, I sprained my ankle four miles into the canyon and could only make the rim-to-rim. I’d like to think that I have the Fastest Known Time (FKT) for the rim-to-rim with an anterior talofibular ligament sprain. The Grand Canyon is an amazing and awe-inspiring natural wonder. It’s even more so, and beyond words when you get down into the canyon.
Five years ago I had surgery to repair an abdominal hernia. While I was in recovery, I kept setting off an alarm because my heart rate was so low. The nurse came in to check on my to make sure I was okay. I was okay. I set the alarm off again. She came in again to find that I was still okay. I kept setting off the low heart rate alarm. The nurse came in the third of fourth time and finally asked, “Josh, are you a runner?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“That explains it.”
“…”
“Runners usually have a really low resting heart rate”
Early in the year I had a non-cancerous mole-like thing removed from my tongue. It was a quick procedure performed by an oral surgeon, but was still considered surgery, so I had the heart rate monitor (and some laughing gas).
I set the heart rate monitor off again. While I was on my little conscious “trip,” I decided to try to trick the machine. I focused on my breathing and controlling my pulse. I would hold my breath for a few seconds and focus on the doctor holding onto my tongue, and then I’d listen to the rhythm of the heart rate monitor. Then I’d slowly inhale through my nose, and take a really long, controlled exhale and concentrate on my heart. I could slow my heart rate. I’d set off the alarm. I’d get a little excited by “winning,” and my heart rate would increase a bit and the alarm would stop. And then I’d do it again. And again. And again. And then the nurse asked, “Josh, are you a runner?”
“Uh huhnnn.”
“Today I took a spill after running a strong 10-mile hill repeat training running. I was jogging home and tripped on a split in the sidewalk. My feet came out from underneath me and, before I knew what I was doing, I hit the ground. Hard. I rolled. I scraped up my palms, knee and shoulder. I first noticed that the wind had gotten knocked out of my lungs. I’d landed on my right side and landed on my right arm. My body landed on my right elbow and said elbow hit my ribs. After a few minutes I was able to recover and jog the last mile home.
After six or so hours, Elise and I decided I needed to go to the doctor. It hurt for me to breath, reach, bend, stretch, and pretty much exist.
We went to an urgent care. The nurse and then the doctor asked me all of the the questions about my symptoms. An x-ray was ordered.
The X-ray tech took me to the X-ray room. She lined me up against the plate against the wall for a chest X-ray. She then went back to her “room” to take the X-ray. She took a few photos. And then she restarted the process. She sighed a couple times as she took the next set of photos. And then she asked, “Josh, are you a runner?”
“Yes ma’am.”
And then she chuckled as she came back into the room. I asked, “What’s up?” She said she couldn’t get a full view of my chest with the default X-ray plate. I asked why. She told me that runners have “really long” lungs. So she had to get the large X-ray plate to get a full scan of my chest.
