Take One: The Best Running Rainwear and Tips to Colder Weather Running

This week, Runner’s Delight reached out to good friends who do what RD does not: brave the intensely cold temperatures of the Pacific Northwest and middle America to get advice as to what to wear while running and how best to attack sloshing through rain, sleet and snow! As was pointed out to me earlier this week, I have a very California point of view when it comes to all things running. Yes, I’ve run in other states and counties, but the majority of my running days as of late are spent in the Bay Area, where we experience a mild range of temperatures. With that in mind, I got curious about just how California-centric I am when it comes to my advice about jogging in rain. Enter guest blogger number one, Joe!

Joe grew up in sunny SoCal, and slowly made his way up the coast, stopping in Santa Barbara, San Francisco, and finally settling in Portland, Oregon. He took up running recently, and when queried about any tips he had for the colder months, offered to let me post this response. Taking to the streets turned out not to be his cup of hot chocolate, but hear what he did instead.

I’m stoked to offer another point of view here on Runner’s Delight, and hope ya’ll enjoy!

*
Portland, Oregon. Fall rain, winter rain, spring rain. Rain hung me up to dry.

I was just starting to find my rhythm to running, doing a 2 mile loop to Alberta Park and back, when the weather starting getting colder and wetter.  Five weeks into the 10 week “Couch to 5k” regime the weather beat me when my lungs started to sting from the frigid air. I decided to retire my running until it got warmer again and just focus on working out at the gym and doing yoga. If I had a treadmill at home I might have kept up with the running or perhaps better running gear.

My feet pounded the treadmills at the gym only once this winter but I did lots of bike riding. However, I did become even more of a yoga addict during the winter, going to class 3-4 times a week and practicing at home as well.  Cardio is super important though and I miss that cathartic sweat.  I’m looking forward to getting back out there to give running a shot in a few weeks.

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6 Fitness Tips Everyone’s Heard (That Don’t Really Work)

Have any of you read articles by Christina H, aka “Mortal Wombat” on Cracked? Well, if not, you’re in for a trick-or-treat (or both!) today. Instead of blah-blah-blahing about running or foot placement or the best way to use some old-fashioned piece of exercise equipment, I’m asking you all to take a second and check out someone else’s take on fitness!

Today for your linking over pleasure, I offer you 6 Fitness Tips Everyone’s Heard (That Don’t Really Work) — written and directed by Mortal Wombat, of course.

Need a teaser? Save time! Read mine right here:

Whether you’re an exercise novice who loves looking sharp at the gym, or a old-timer in ratty sweats and a sloppy ponytail, you’ve heard plenty of advice about working out. Gotta eat breakfast, better run barefoot, water water water. Well, Christina H. is about to debunk those tall tales in her latest article. Get to it here, and stop stressing about your BMI already!

 

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Notes from the YMCA

This morning, I looked out over the elliptical machine and saw an older woman walking towards the weights. She was wearing a T-shirt that read the following:

I’m not dead yet.

I desperately wanted to go shake her hand. All I could think was, “heck yes. Heck yes indeed.” Maybe that’ll be Runner’s Delight’s motto for 2011: I’m not dead yet in 2011. Has a nice ring to it…

 

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Treadmills: Accurate or Bullsmack?

Whilst out having drinks with some of the most brilliant ladies I know, Ciana and I found ourselves in a side conversation about treadmills. Yes, I know that in the past I have waxed annoyance with the ever-faithful treadmill, and I certainly do have plenty of reasons to prefer running in the great outdoors. As our days grow shorter and it’s too overcast to see more than a few feet in front of myself, I’ve been trying to find my stride on those mechanical beasts over at the YMCA. Last week, on my first day back on the ‘mill, I noticed that the distance counter seemed to think I was running at a 15 minute mile pace, which shocked me. I relayed this to Ciana, who agreed that she often felt misled by her ‘mills ability to log her miles correctly. So of course, I had to turn to the internet to try and find out if we were right, or if perhaps we’re just a little slower than we imagined.

First off, it’s entirely possible we’re running at a more tortisey-pace when ‘milling than when we’re outside. According to FitFAQ.com, “Because you run with less effort on a treadmill, you need to raise the elevation to at least one-percent. If you leave it at zero percent elevation, you’ll be running slower than the mile-per-hour setting indicates because you don’t have to overcome wind resistance on the treadmill. By raising the elevation, you’ll more closely match the effort required to run at that speed over land.” So, treadmill running is a bit easier to pull off, and without any sort of “terrain” to deal with, you won’t output as much unless you add resistance in some way.

On that same note, HillRunner.com even drew up a Treadmill Pace Conversions chart that shows what incline setting you should use to hit your desire mile page.

After that though, it seems that there are two firm camps as to the accuracy of distance calculated by treadmills: people in the biz will claim up-down-left-and-right that treadmills are accurate beyond all reason when it comes to calculating distance. The reason? Treadmills base their distance on revolutions of their belt (quite similar to the way your car notes distance). Assuming your treadmill is appropriately calibrated*, it should be pretty hard to get an incorrect reading of mileage.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the general consensus of regular runners is that treadmills are in no way, shape, or form accurate. Runners who can bust out a six minute mile on the track find it nearly impossible to do so on the “six minute mile” setting on the ‘mill. While several discussion boards note this discrepancy, after two hours of hunting online and scouring Google Scholar, I still can’t find a study or researched article that clearly states one way or another if treadmills are accurate in miles. Time for a call to Dr. Dad…

The inconclusive conclusion for today? While it’s unclear as to whether the miles noted on treadmills are accurate, it’s safe to say that you’re still getting a workout, correct mileage or not. So if treadmills are your thing, get on and run at a pace you can sustain for half an hour or an hour, and you’re on a healthy track.  Runner’s D will do some more research, and get back to you, Ciana!

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*To calibrate: tape or use chalk to draw a line or mark the belt. Measure the distance around the belt. Zero out the odometer. Press start and move it slowly counting the marks as they go by. At exactly .1 mile stop, note the number or revolutions the belt made, and measure any distance further than the mark at stopping.
You should get 6336 inches. If you don’t: divide the number you got into 6336. ie you got 6000 inches, 6336/6000=1.056.
What ever distance you run times 1.056 is the real distance. So when your tread mill reads .94 you have run a mile (in the example here).

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Getting (un)Rowdy with Rowing

 

My history with arm strength has been nil since the age of 10, when I attempted to earn the Presidential Fitness Award by being able to perform a series of fitness feats, which culminated in doing three pull-ups (palms facing away from you, not towards you). Despite practice in the gymnastics room at the local university with Dr. Dad, I failed to get my chin over the bar a third time and thus did not earn the blue award (but can I just say I excelled at the number of crunches pumped out in one minute? I always had over 60). Well, it’s taken 18 years, but I finally care about strengthening my arms again.

Thus, I skidaddled over to the YMCA yesterday morning and the rowing machine caught my eye. My cousin Jaye is in insanely good shape from her time rowing on real water, and since I fancy her triceps and biceps, I thought perhaps dry-rowing might be a good way to start on my quest for arm strength. I mosied up to the machine, gave it a quick towel-bath, sat down, and…

Yeah. And.

Um, have you seen a rowing machine? There’s a weird bench with a sliding seat on it that faces what looks like a giant oscillating fan (though the fan does not actually oscillate…that would be truly bizarre and Star Trek-esque). The sticker that probably touted the directions was falling off (hopefully due to the massive amounts of sweat produced), and since it was o-six-hundred hours, no other gym-goer was around to offer guidance.

As I latched my feet into the holsters, I thought about how it would be so handy in life to have something akin to Microsoft Word’s Clippy. Remember Clippy?

Our Fearless Friend

Apparently, Clippy wasn’t terribly beloved by many, but come on! His purpose – to help – was genius. And yes, helpful. Of course, I customized my help-buddy to be Albert Einstein, so the only reason I know so much about Microsoft Word is because of ol’ Albie. He kept me company through all my college papers.

Anyway, imagine if you have a question at the gym, and *poof!* Here comes Gyro the Gym Gnu. Glorious. He’d pop up over the derranged fan-apparatus and then demonstrate proper rowing position in the air. So much better than watching a gnu play air guitar would be watching him bust out some air-rowing. And Gyro the Gym Gnu would hang out until you were comfortable, offering pointers and encouragement. Sometimes Gyro would even show up just for moral support when you did not even need assistance.

Since there is no Gyro the Gym Gnu (get on that, inventors!), personal trainers are pricey, and Dr. Dad lives just far enough way that asking him to come over just to help me with a piece of equipment seemed ludicrous, I had to make do with the internet as being my source of information for all things rowing machine! Here’s what I’ve found out:

According to e-How, rowing is like swimming in the sense that it works your entire body with low impact. The goal is to use as much resistance as you can pull (well, row) in order to get both a muscular and cardiovascular work out. As an added bonus for someone like me who slouches more than Oscar the Grouch, the machine should strengthen your back and your core for improved standing conditions.

I turned to YouTube for actual assistance in rowing:

(I especially enjoyed his tattoo sitting quietly near his elbow. I could imagine Gyro the Gym Gnu kicking it there while I rowed. ) The most important thing to remember seems to be back placement, which makes me wish there were mirrors by these little guys so I can check my positioning. I’ll have to find someone to check on me.

Okay, so…back straight. Evenly distribute the pull. Smooth movements. Might take awhile to get the swing of it (the slide of it?). I can do this and not feel foolish. Not too foolish anyway. I love new things!

Other things I love…

I love how when ducks pick up their feet, the webs all invert together and then expand as the foot is placed back down. It kind of looks like they are doing an intricate dance, and I wish my feet moved like that so I could dance with them.

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A Runner’s Delight Runs Abroad!

It never fails. My boyfriend takes me on vacation, and I insist upon taking my running shoes. Even when vacation is farther away than you could imagine…even when it’s in another country. Like the southern tip of Mexico. Of course, I had no idea where in Mexico I actually was until we got there and I caught sight of a map…when it comes to planes, I’d rather not know. But I was darn excited to learn I’d be puttering my feet in the sand of the Caribbean!

I never thought I’d be running abroad, let alone running in a country whose language I barely can fumble through (my best phrase was “Where is the library?”), but on the first day of our week-long stay, I couldn’t help but throw on my tennies (does anyone call them that anymore?) and hit the sand. I wanted to see the real Mexico from the beach up.

There are a few things to note about running on the eastern coast of Mexico: first, you won’t be able to read any of the warning signs on the sand unless you actually speak Spanish. So be careful, and try to interpret the pictures on the signs. Otherwise you might be really really surprised when the sandy beach shifts to a rocky, pebbly, bouldery beach.

Second, there are lemurs. Seriously!!

Third, wear sunscreen. Even if it’s right after sunrise. Heck,  even if it’s before sunrise. If there is any chance the sun might kiss your skin, please do yourself a favor and lather up that cool creamy screen before you go. Mexican sun will burn through everything like it’s getting paid to paint you red.

Fourth, there are others. On “Resort Row” as I ungracefully dubbed the strip of sand I ran throughout the week, there were several other tourists and vacationistas plodding through the sand with me every morning. Okay, not several. But there were a few, which was surprising, and thus felt like several. Every morning I saw at least one other jogger. Apparently, working out on vacation is not strange anymore. In fact, it’s expected. There was even a gym at our resort.

Finally, I was interested to realize that running in Mexico is much like running in America. You go outside, you breathe the air, you enjoy the solace and the sounds, you find weird things in the sand, you wave to strangers, you lose your footing…while the sights are different, the action is always the same. And maybe that’s part of what I love about running. The scenery may change, but what I’m doing remains constant.

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Hot Hot Heat

My fancy-pants* gym just wowed me a little more, thanks to the single-sex sauna located in the locker room (right next to the single-sex steam room and single-sex hot-tub). Until last week, I hadn’t been in a sauna since I was a pint sized, not too gangly kidlet. Almost certainly, I only went in at that age because my father dragged me in with him in the way that parents have to do when they’re watching their children. I remember it being hot.

Saunas are not particularly en vogue these days, at least in Orange County. The citizens of Irvine and the outlying cities are not busily discussing their latest sauna-stint in the grocery store, nor are they busy building little saunas into every empty plaza suite. Yet saunas are a world-wise, cross cultural heat-producing place, and I as I got out of the pool one day, I started at the little room with a steamed up window and wondered the simple question, why?

Without any preconceived notions of what the sauna could, should and would do for me post work-out, I slipped in that day curiosity had gotten the best of me. The room is made entirely of wood (sans the floor, which was gym-y tile, of course), and rests between the temperatures of 160-180. I’m a little shocked people can exist in that kind of heat, but I’m here to tell the tale. I spread out a towel and sat down, watching the walls and wondering if I was going to experience anything peculiar, like hallucinations or feeling faint at such temperatures. No dice. Just me, heat, and silence. The only irregularity I did notice was that when you move in a sauna, you feel the heat. It pricks your skin in a not entirely unpleasant way. But if you sit still, you don’t really feel much different – just warmly snug as a bug in a rug.

Mainstream known benefits of the sauna seem to be fully focused on having clear pores, clearing the body of toxins, and relaxation. Many sauna-proponents also tout that your immunity will rise because bacteria and viruses cannot survive at high temperatures (which made me think we should just send sick people to Venus. It’s hot there, right?). But what I wanted to know was what were the actual health benefits to hitting up the sauna. Would it help my running? My swimming? My overall health?

According to an article published in 2007, Effect of Post-Exercise Sauna Bathing on the Endurance Performance of Competitive Male Runners, the conclusion was drawn that, “3 weeks of post-exercise sauna bathing produced a worthwhile enhancement of endurance running performance, probably by increasing blood volume.” Look, I love science. But probably? Seriously? I’m an English person – I pick up on indecisive language if only because it’s my job.

There do seem to be a lot of cautions for sauna use, including straining your heart, extreme loss of sweat, and unpredictable blood pressure. That all sounds really fun! Except not, so if you’re going to sauna, be careful and have a good sense of your heart’s capabilities.

So, saunaing for the purpose of being snuggly and warm work out great. As for what it will do for my health…we’ll see.

*I must admit that I still cannot believe I belong to a gym that anyone might describe as “nice.” I was a Gold’s Gym person, or a fitness-center at the apartment complex person. But now, I’m a “it’s possible I’d see an Olympian here” gym person. Can’t lie, it’s pretty spectacular. Kudos to the boyfriend! Nutty, chocolatey kudos!

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Treadmill Confessional

Okay, so you’re all going to laugh. You’re going to laugh hard. I am actually ashamed to admit this: Until Wednesday of this week, I had never before been on a treadmill.

I know – I have the audacity to consider myself a runner, and lately a gym-body, and I have the never once stepped foot on the machine that combines the two. Should I have my self-proclaimed titles revoked? Maybe. But hear me out.

See, I have something else to admit: I have been judgmental towards treadmill runners (imagine me with my head in my hands. Or in one hand, and me typing with the other. Flush is running over my cheeks, and I swear it is not my lingering raised temperature). I have looked at them and scoffed a little bit. Why run nowhere when you can run everywhere? Why be stuck inside? Why be stuck on a machine for something our bodies want to do everywhere?

I know. Trust me, I know.

But the good news is that I have changed. Tonsillitis knocked me down hard last week. Hard enough to even stop my running. Seriously. Stopped me in my fitnessy tracks. I pulled myself to the gym on Sunday, and then Monday and Tuesday did not even bring thoughts of anything but trying to breath without being pain. I did not even care that I was not running. That’s how sick I was.

Wednesday, after three total days of bed rest and three trips to after hours care and urgent care, I finally had the frame of mind to think, “Holy Bologna, exercise.” And while maybe I did not feel the most centered or in the best of health, boyfriend agreed to take me to the gym if I promised not to act like….well, like I had not worked out in three days. After a firm handshake, we got in the car.

I got on the treadmill mostly because my boyfriend got on one, and I wanted to at least try to workout with some sort of impact. It took literally two minutes to figure out how to use it; the buttons are the same as the elliptical, but they are sort of mean different things. Plus, I set up the television to a basketball game before I started the ‘mill because changing channels while attempting to stay on the darn thing seemed dangerous for a klutz like me.

Here is what is kind of glorious about the treadmill:
You can go at any speed you want. There is a button that lets you push up your speed or lower your speed – and you don’t even have to think about it. Really. Yes, this takes away some of the neurons I usually use when I run. But I also thing it made me run faster for longer because of all the dials and gadgets that were keeping track of time and speed. So I could say, “Heck yes I’m running at X speed for not just two minutes, but five minutes!” (I know, I geek out on this stuff.)

The television wasn’t in the best condition, so I turned it off pretty quickly, and was plunged into silence and complete lack of stimulation. This concerned me, seeing as how as an outdoor runner, I at least always have traffic or trees to keep me company if my iPod goes kaput. But at the gym, there was nothing but the stomping of my feet on the treadmill. Eerie.

If you must know, of course I did not just zone out – I ended up singing “The Rain in Spain” from My Fair Lady on repeat in my head. Because zoning out is impossible in my world. I thought about running, I watched my reflection on the screen ahead of me and practiced my best “Runner’s World” face, I watched the really tone girl who was booking it on the treadmill across the room from me, and I sang “The Rain in Spain.”

The really tone girl across the room was another tidbit of wonderful about the treadmill. She was inspiring. She had these incredible legs, this incredibly body, and she was fit and Faster than greased lightening. If it wouldn’t have been creepy, I would have wanted to walk up to her and tell her she was my hero. Often my running efforts are solo, to the point of not even seeing another runner on the road. But at the gym, there one was. Two, if you count my boyfriend (which I totally do, but I refuse to watch him workout for fear he is watching me work out. I just passed gas in front of him on accident for the first time; I am so not ready for the sweating bit, or at least the watching me sweat bit).

My only treadmill quandary is this: what happens if you fall off? I am not known for being able to run in a straight line, or for paying attention to what I am doing with more than a scatterbrained fleeting thought when it comes to things like foot placement on a machine. It took considerable brainpower to keep myself on the ‘mill; which I suppose I cannot complain about. At least I was using my brain!

So while in no way do I believe the treadmill can replace the great running outdoors, I have to say that I’m not opposed to the little guy; plus, it’s a great way to make me practice sprinting.

And yes, I work out when I am sick. Unless it’s a damn bad illness, I give myself that luxury. Sweat it out, I say!

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Cardholder

I’ve never been one for the rat-race of the work-place — the nine to five daily drain of my energy, the water-cooler gossip fest, the monthly birthday celebration because “there are just too many people to celebrate everyone individually.” Man, at least in elementary school we were recognized as separate people and not as a mass unit. Anyway, I’ve always viewed part of this organized yet chaotic operation of society to be holding a gym membership, and even though I like the idea of a place where you can do cardio, weights, and take yoga classes at the same time (okay, I love the idea — it’s like a Runner’s Delight version of paradise), the industriousness of it always kept me at bay.

Until last week.

Last Wednesday, the boyfriend came home from work and said, “Let’s go check out something I’d like to get you for the winter holiday.” After asking him if we were going to a farm to check out a pony, going to check out Janis Joplin costume shop, and going to a karaoke bar to practice our couple’s singing skills, we arrived at our destination: the gym.

Some people might think this sounds kind of rude — to give your girlfriend a gym membership — sort of like giving your special lady friend a gift certificate to a salon in the exact amount of a lip wax. Beauty and health gifts don’t tend to go over too well with the gift’s recipient. However, I was intrigued and excited (and I did confirm that my boyfriend is incredibly happy by the way I look before I stepped inside) by the prospect, and so with hands held, we crossed the threshold and entered a fitness wonderland where larks were singing and rainbows were blooming.

Maybe there weren’t any larks, but there were tons of glorious gym-related squeaks and hums, and even disco lights. This gym was probably the nicest fitness arena I’ve seen outside of Club One in the Bay Area, but since I think you have to be a member of a secret society to get a membership there, this was fine with me. Here, the locker rooms were immaculate, and the towels are kept warm until you take them off the shelves. Any personal item you left at home can be offered to you (Q-tips, curling irons, deodorant, and probably a tiara if you smile pretty). Plus, each locker room is home to its own single sex spa. Private jacuzzi, anyone?

The gym itself offers the latest and greatest exercise equipment, including some really fancy-pants weight systems that the boyfriend knew about, rows and rows of those remarkable Life Fitness cardio machines that have televisions sunk right into each and every one of them, a saltedly chlorinated pool, squash and raquetball courts, several yoga studios, spin and dance classes that come with the cost of admission, and all equipment on hand to borrow for an basketball, volleyball or racqueted sport imaginable. The only way to make this gym better would be if they offered warm cookies as you leave. Seriously, this place dazzled me.

They even only offer filtered water to fill up your water bottle with. Which is so unnecessary and so strange and so over-the-top. And free parking (which in Orange County is like finding millions of tiny unicorns migrating overhead).

Boyfriend and I had a brief discussion after our tour of the facility, and we discussed the cost of my pool fees at the recreation center and the cost benefit analysis of switching, and we went in to negotiate a membership. Well, I let boyfriend take care of that — I just signed my name and thanked him profusely, generously, and repeatedly.

So I’m a convert (and probably a spoiled one at that). This certainly doesn’t mean any less running, but it hopefully means more pool time, more stationary bike time, and more working out with the boyfriend time. Oh, and when you come visit me, I can bring guests. Score!

Anyone else have gym memberships they love or hate?

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