Minnesota

The hotel we stayed at in Minnesota was situated on the corner of a freeway with a highway t-boning the freeway via an overpass. Let’s just say it wasn’t the safest area to go running. It was also not the warmest area to go running – Duluth is really far north in comparison to San Francisco, and even in September the chill in the air went straight to my lungs, gurgled around in my larynx, and even hit my stomach when the air went down the wrong pipe. Regardless of not having a long sleeve shirt and knowing that in order to get to any non-main road I was going to have to play Frogger with the cars, I went for a run.

I was in Minnesota, after all. How could I not?

There’s something you should know about Minnesota. Actually, there are a few things:

1) It’s the “Land of One Thousand Lakes” and they are so not kidding. Lakes are everywhere. You’re driving down a country backroad and the scenery goes like this: stunning fall foliage in colors pink ladies and crisp golden apple daydream about, just a shade darker than pale blue skies whisking by and then VOILA! A lake that glitters like a sapphire, begging to be photographed or splashed in or otherwise adored.

2) Everything in Minnesota is cute, from the accents to the storefronts to the roadways to the license plates to the mountains.

3) Yes, the mountains are cute. Mostly because they are what Californian’s would consider hills. Which is downright adorable.

Upon leaving the hotel, I ran on a high way overpass curb toward Spirit Mountain. No cars were around as I made my way up the incline and thinking I was in for a long run up, I was rather surprised to find myself at the top and in a family-friendly fun zone (hello, alpine coaster and mini golf). I ran around, then ran back down the mountain-really-hill, and thought, “huh.”

Megan and I swam laps in the tiny pool that night.

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Pooling Around

Despite the Saturdayness of the day, the morning after Space Prom, I hit the swimming pool. Saturdays are notoriously splashy days at the YMCA pool – half of the lanes are combined into one big pen for toddler lessons, and there’s a group of baby-meet-chlorine classes as well. Which admittedly, is adorable. There’s singing. And dad’s holding babies and cooing. But it’s also loud. And tends to involve a constant worry on my end that someone is going to drown.

All that aside, my feet hurt from busting a groove in ultra-high heels. An acquaintance I ran into at Space Prom sent me a Facebook message noting every time he saw me across a big room, I was dancing. And there was definitely that one moment when I saw a volunteer shaking his thing to a Backstreet Boys number and I couldn’t resist pantomiming along with him, stranger or not (and his age probably being under 19 or not). A pool morning would do me well.

So because of all the lessons, the pool lanes were condensed to one walking lane, one slow, one medium, and one fast. When I arrived, two people were in the fast lane. I assessed their speed and knew I was faster than them. Circle swimming would be irritating. Two people were in the medium lane. Same issue. One person was in the slow lane. My best bet was to hop in and split the lane with her. Done and done.

She got out a few minutes later and a guy whose feet looked like they were molded after Michael Phelps got in. This guy powered by me like he was a tractor and I was pushing a lawn mower. After a long while of swimming in this split lane fashion, I stopped to get a pull buoy between my quads, and saw a woman hop into our lane at the other side of the pool and just start swimming without talking to us (so dangerous! Telling swimmers you’re coming in and planning to circle swim when they’ve been splitting the lane is vital). The Phelps-footer was headed toward me, so I stopped him and suggested we start circle swimming. He nodded and went back to his workout.

The woman swam a few feet and stopped. She swam a few feet and stopped. Repeat. Which sort of spelled disaster for circle swimming.

Now here’s where I want advice as to what I could have done differently, as I feel like what followed wasn’t the most positive interaction:

She got to where I was standing and I smiled a greeting, then asked her if that was about her normal pace. She said it was. I told her she might be more comfortable in one of the other lanes, as we were swimming continuously and it might be a bit dangerous for her. She said the lifeguard had told her to get into our lane. I looked at her strangely, and she said the other lanes were marked medium and fast, and she wanted to go slow. (I should note she didn’t speak English well and I didn’t speak her language at all, so there was definitely a communication gap.) I wasn’t sure at that point if I should try to explain how we all came to be mixed up in our speeds, and I decided to just go with it. So I told her to be careful and she said we should watch out for her and that she shouldn’t have to watch out for us. Fair enough, and I told her we would. And started swimming again.

I worry this whole conversation came off as not wanting her in my lane (not true) or being an unfriendly swimmer. When really, I just wanted everyone to swim in a way that was comfortable.

When is it our place to educate/inform others, and when is it our place to just let swimming fish paddle?

 

 

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Today’s Racket – What’s This Water in My Ear?

What I love about blogging is a lot like what I love about running: every time I take a break from it, I’m thrilled to come back. There’s never any sense of dread or annoyance. Instead I have the good fortune of thinking “Finally!” as I limber up my typing fingers or lace on my running shoes. Mmm. Running shoes.

I’ve got so many things I want to write about – the run I took to the library, the fact that I figured out that I must live running-buddy close to fellow blog/runner Jen after running into her twice in two days at the market, what I’ve learned from Ira Glass and RadioLab and Dan Savage these past few weeks, the sociology of attractiveness, finding joy in the YMCA…the works!

But imagine that all as a preview for coming attractions because today, we’re focusing on a summer-related topic: water in the ears.

Swimming regularly – and sometimes even bathing regularly – can lead to getting water in your ears. For the most part, it “ain’t no thang” (as the kids are saying these days). Water flows right back out of your ear, and you go about your merry way. Except…when it doesn’t.

Maybe you have waif-lie ear canals like me (seriously, I inherited abnormally large tonsils from Dr. Dad and tiny ear canals from my mom) or perhaps you’re just prone to ear issues. Either way, water in your ears is no bueno for a few reasons: first and foremost, it blocks your hearing of the outside world, and makes anything you say seem incredibly loud. Meaning you miss every fifth word being spoken, and at the same time are almost whispering because in your head you sound like a yelling yeti.

Worse than the hearing issue is that water in the ear might eventually lead to swimmer’s ear – a swelling of the ear canal that is painful and can lead to infection. Even non-swimmers get swimmer’s ear (using earbuds can cause this too), so you’re not off the hook if a body of water doesn’t zig your zag.

So what’s a waterbaby to do? For starters, dry your ears thoroughly. Mayo Clinic goes as far as to offer these pointers: “Dry only your outer ear, wiping it slowly and gently with a soft towel or cloth. Tip your head to the side to help water drain from your ear canal. You can dry your ears with a blow-dryer if you put it on the lowest setting and hold it at least a foot (0.3 meters) away from the ear.” Honestly though, a blow-dryer? That sounds like hearing loss waiting to happen. Pun totally intended.

If you do get water caught in your ears, and the above home-treatment doesn’t work, there’s more home treatment. This doctor is wearing a bow-tie, which makes me think he knows a thing or two about ears:

His wanna-be Garrison Keillor impression might not have enabled you to sit through his presentation, but what you need to know is you can use a home remedy involving vinegar, or special ear-drops to soften wax that might be blocking water and trapping it into your ear.

Finally, you might want to get a doctor (with or sans bow-tie) involved – they have this magic trick called ear irrigation. I get the pleasure of doing this every so often thanks to my inherited ear canals. Your doctor, or RN, or medical assistant dressed like a bumble bee if it’s Halloween, will have you hold a beaker up to your ear while they push warm water through your canal. If the wax is loose enough/soft enough, it will float out with the copious amounts of water in your container, and you can ooo and aaah over it .

Last but not least, I did once have to have a doctor use a pair of alligator forceps to pull a piece of wax out of my ear to unblock the water. Don’t try that at home, kids.

Of course, the best thing you can do to get water out of your ears is not get water stuck in your ears. But then you’d be some strange special super-human, and you’d miss out on the human experience.

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When the Sick Get Swimming

Cat’s out of the bag: if your muscles hurt waaaaaaaaay more than usual (like, they feel as though someone has attempted to tenderize them with one of those weird cleated hammer-like things found in the kitchen) and you can barely swim through half your workout without feeling strangely fatigued….then you aren’t just tired from playing soccer twice in one week. You um, actually have the flu.

Wish I’d known that before I tried going hiking and then got really dizzy.

On the plus side, all the trees dancing around and the pool wooshing me here and there during flip turns was an experience I’d never had before. There is a plus side to a 101.7 degree fever!

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Quick Update on All Things Workouty

Yipes, so work has felt like a workout as of late, and having time to jot down a cohesive piece about all the wonderful things running, swimming, and fitness have to offer hasn’t come close to being on my radar. But actually doing those delightful activities remains my sanity and time to myself (besides, have that crazy swim to prep for) so I’ll have plenty of fodder for when things simmer down a bit here at the workstead. Until then, what you should know:

1. I’m a little confused by why Rider Strong has no idea who I am. Wait, that’s not fitness related.

2. I’ve incorporate strength training for my arms into my workout routine in order to get me a little more ripped for swimming freestyle. It’s weird. And hard.

3. Been swimming intervals. Mostly 100′s and 50′s. It’s a start. I’m trying. Being uncomfortable in the water makes me worry I might drown.

4. Running actually feels better in high altitude – meant to note this a really long time ago and forgot. I think I am programmed backwards. Also, I think I just run really slowly in high altitude.

5. Dreams have included getting my student ID taken away at a movie theater, using my faux short sleeved leather jacket as a paragliding tool, my boss yelling at me about typos, running into my old boss and not thinking it was weird plus some other strange old-job related conversations on a dark night by a cow field.

That’s it, gotta get back to the jobland, lest I have to work tomorrow too.

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Run, White & Blue

This Fourth of July I…

This Fourth of July I woke up extra early in order to avoid the heat of the day. Pretty much as soon as the sun rises every morning in this seventh month, it’s been hot enough to cook pancakes on the sidewalk, which means taking a run anytime after high eight-am makes my body hot enough to melt butter for those sidewalk pancakes. So I got up at 6:30 and took a ninety minute run through the hills. I went through one of my new favorite longer routes to get myself up to 12 miles, and thought about birthdays of nations and birthdays of friends.

This Fourth of July I took a shower after my run and hung out for a little over an hour on my couch, researching breeds of small dogs I’m considering bringing into my life, and then zipping out some work for various projects and mailing off emails regarding those projects. With less than fifteen minutes to get ready, I tossed on a sundress I’ve been meaning to wear for the past two months and after quite a bit of shoe indecision, made a choice and hustled out the door.

This Fourth of July I met one of my best friends and certainly my best business partner, Angie, at a strange little corporate office park for what turned out to be the most incredible massage of my 29 years (yes, 29, but ask any elliptical machine and it’ll tell you I’m 25). Thai stretching, an array of gentle pulling, time spent on those crazy knots in my back…I almost asked the woman if she’d marry me against both our chosen genders for mates. I felt like jelly on toast. Heck, I felt like jam. No, I felt like preserves. Hot towels were involved. It was amazing.

This Fourth of July I then hit the road and went to see my other parents, Sandy and Duane, and catch up with a host of old friends. Hints of nostalgia became full-fledged waves, and I wondered if the adults who knew me as a teen 15 years ago can see any changes in me, or if like them, I seem just the same as always. Party hopping behooves me, so I snatched blueberries and strawberries for the next BBQ, with my friends who have become my family (the way I always wanted friends to be). Talk of running, bicycles, getting in shape, body image, weight lifting, recent accomplishments, and random trust falls was had (along with an excellent soundtrack that kept everyone dancing, birthday cupcakes, a kiddie pool for our feet, and some wedding planning ideas) until my body begged to be at home again, getting ready to bunker down, wake up early, and swim swim swim.

Probably one of the best adult Fourth of July’s to date.

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Just Keep Swimming (Faster, Though)

Oy, so here’s the scoop: my dear friend Noah inquired about my mile time in the pool. He’s putting together a triathlon relay team for autumn, and they need a swimmer. I was hesitant to throw a numerical value on my swimming because I don’t tend to swim for speed. Efficiency, yes. Strength, yes. Lung capacity, can I get a hell yes. But for fast-sies? Nah. Not interested.

Interestingly, the last time I went swimming with Noah, many moons ago, I remember him attempting to get me to compete against the clock. “Let’s just see how fast you can swim 50 yards. Don’t you want to know?” he needled me. “Do you think you can do it in 30 seconds? Maybe 28?” He almost talked me into it, his competitive streak motivating me to want to flex my mermaid powers. But then I remembered how much I just didn’t care terribly much about how fast I was. But I digress.

One reason I don’t swim quickly is because I almost assuredly have another workout to do immediately following it or later in the day. Tiring my body out to have to skimp on the second workout isn’t my forte, and I like to demo endurance to myself. (Yes, I know I should just swim harder and then push myself in workout number 2, but I’m happy with where I’m at.) But at Noah’s query, I decided to find out how fast I might swim a mile.

This task is actually not that easy. See, my body is not trained to swim fast. I’ve trained it to move through the water gracefully, but not with intense speed, which means that attempting to get myself to move quickly in the pool was a challenge in and of itself. I wasn’t sure how much energy I could expend. And as I swam I realized that I am certainly not moving my arms and legs as fast I could be, nor taking in as much air as I could be.

My time today: 26 minutes.

Unfortunately, this task got more complicated by me realizing this morning that 26 minutes means a whopping zero to me. Is that a good time? Is it a relay-team time? How fast is a good swim time for the mile? And as I know my time isn’t good (can’t be, simply based on my lack of training), how the heck do I get faster? Sigh, and Dr. Dad can’t help me for a weeks (though when he’s around next I’m dragging him to the pool to analyze my swimming), so what’s a runner who wants to be a swimmer to do?

To the internet and beyond, natch!

First, I was lazy and went to eHow’s How to Swim Fast page. I figured if anything it was a jumping off point for the wide world of zippy swim motions. Their suggestions were as follows:

1. Wear a drag suit: in other words, wear a suit over your suit.(Oy, really? Does this really help? And why am I so darn opposed to this? Apparently the extra drag makes you faster when you go with only one suit.)

2. Take more purposeful strokes: swim with intention that is not splashy. (Already do this.)

3. Find your center of buoyancy. (Whoa, is this like my center of gravity? According to eHow, “Generally this is located in your chest, so many swimmers find that if they push the chest down into the water while swimming, it will cause the hips to come up toward the surface, making it easier to propel the body with the legs.” I think I need to look this up. It sounds like magic.)

4. Streamline your body for better glide: there should be a time in every stroke that one or both arms are in front of you and your body is literally gliding. (I do this, but maybe could be better.)

5. Rotate your body from side to side: it’s like Justin Timberlake said, “You’ve gotta rock your body.”  (Okay, I totally suck at this. It freaks me out to rotate because it’s less streamlined and less purposeful in my head- it feels too loose to me. This is totally something I can work on.)

I feel like these are helpful notes, but I’m not going to be able to enforce them upon myself (with the exception of the drag suit) without guidance. How much rotation is too much? How long should I be gliding for maximum efficiency?

The internet also directed me to an article on tri-ecoach.com,“Triathlon Swim Training” which I hoped would offer me a little more motivation or ideas, and by golly I was right. It’s been awhile since swim team and workouts, and I tend to repeat a similar workout routine each swim sesh because I like to zen out while swimming. But to be fast, well, workouts are apparently vital according to tri-ecoach:

Swimming fast requires constant intensity work…Since the swim’s distance is so short you’ll need to be able to pace yourself at a very fast tempo, and the only way to accomplish that is to swim in intense aerobic and anaerobic states in training. Workouts should include sets that will push you to, or faster than your pace for the race distance. For example If you are swimming a set of 10x 100, at the finish of each 100 you should be breathing hard but not gasping for air; the recovery should only be ten to twenty seconds depending on your ability. …Some athletes think the rest period is too short compared to biking or running intervals, but that’s not the case. These short rest periods are essential because swimming doesn’t require as much energy compared to running intervals. Therefore, shorter recovery keeps your heart rate constantly in the 80 – 85% of your maximum heart rate zone – similar to a race day effort.

I think tri-e hit the fin on the board with this note: “you’ll need to be able to pace yourself at a very fast tempo, and the only way to accomplish that is to swim in intense aerobic and anaerobic states in training.” Swimming at a pulsing, quick tempo is so not my forte, and making myself do it is seriously the only way to get faster, and ultimately become the swimmer I want to be (and that Noah needs me to be). Besides, 10×100 …  I can do that.

I got this.

Right?

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I Meant What I Said & I Said What I Meant

The secret to working out effectively? Give at least 45% of your effort and energy to the cause.

The secret to working out with the best results possible? You’ve got to give 100%.

I know, 100% sucks. Trust me, I know. I hate giving all of myself to any cause, least of all my own. I tend to believe in divide and conquer on all fronts. But if you want conviction when you run, if you want to master the bike ride, if you want to look like a badass, if you want to be the top of your game (whether you game is the tri, the marathon, soccer, basket weaving, writing, photography, or something else) then it’s 100%. It’s all, or it really might as well be nothing.

That’s why they always tell you it’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle change. It’s not trying, it’s doing or not doing. If you want results, if you want the best, if you lust for lucrative experiences and for the world at your fingertips, it’s all about everything you’ve got. And perhaps, it’s a little bit about ownership, too. Maybe a race becomes your own when you give that last 55%.

I meant what I said, and I said what I meant: An elephant’s faithful 100%.

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Taking Ownership

Man, life’s a trip, isn’t it? Actually, I guess it’s more of a journey. Trip implies something leisurely. Sightseeing. Feeding the pigeons in the park. Snapping some photographs. But journey: that’s quite a bit rougher around the edges. When you embark on a journey, you gotta be a bit scrappy. A bit intuitive. Ready to embrace negatives and positives alike. To take the “life as a journey” down a notch, we could go so far as to say running a race–be it a triathlon, a marathon, a half, or even a 5k–is a journey as well. Training for an endurance event is certainly a journey. A learning process.

I’ve noticed something lately in the vernacular of racers: somewhere along the way of their training (or is it post-race?), an athlete goes from calling the event the half marathon to my half marathon. At some point, an athlete takes responsibility–ownership, if you will–of their race. In fact, they possess it. The half-marathon becomes part of their being, their existence.

I doubt that noting this transition is a novel concept. But what interests me is this: at what point, exactly, does one take ownership of their race? When does one accept that they are on a journey, that there is something happening in them physically, mentally, spiritually, factually?

This reminds me of the fact that I do not ever refer to myself as a runner. I say that I run. But I do not take ownership of my running. Others have called me a runner, but I do not see myself as such. Running and I coexist together, but I have yet to truly claim the title.

Interestingly, I almost never refer to the races I have participated in as mine. The lingo I use is, “When I did the marathon” or “During the tri.” Despite having completed those journeys, those chapters closing, I don’t call them my own. There is a detachment. Is this referencing positive or negative? Am I just as engaged in my activity if I don’t call it my own? Is this simply a piece of my personality, or is it a deeper consideration that has to do with how I connect to physical activity?

As I write, I’m reminded that I call the soccer team I play on my soccer team. My team. Mine. What is it about the team, about soccer, that I can claim? Is it because I have played since I was a child, whereas running is new? Is it because it’s a journey I have accepted as being fulfilled?

Running is not how I get from one place to another; few, if any endurance athletes are using their training as mode of transportation. Instead, running or biking or swimming–training in general–is a process. It’s a journey. Training is not about Point A to Point B; it’s about what happens in between. When I run, it’s for me and only me. Yet it’s not mine.

Which all leads me to wonder: Am I letting myself fall down the rabbit hole, or am I running down the sides full steam ahead? And moreso, does ownership matter as long as I keep seeking where I’m going? As long as I’m fit, healthy, and very much alive, does any it matter how I relate to running?

 

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‘Snot Magic, It’s Just Running

Running and body-fluids go together like sparkles and glue. There’s sweat, obviously (oh Mylanta, there is sweat everywhere. Even between my shoulder blades). Occasionally I find myself with watery eyes depending on what is in the air or what This American Life I’m listening to. Of course, there’s the fluids/functions that really aren’t for the masses. And there is snot.

I’ve noticed my nose’s predilection for dribbling during a walk, run or swim for quite some time and have attempted to fix the problem by ignoring my nasal cavity completely. In true Runner’s Delight style though, my curiosity bested me and I had to delve into research regarding the mysterious nose “sweat” as one might call it were one feeling a bit sassy yet ladylike.

So, the runner’s nose is not uncommon. In fact, it’s so prevalent that simply hunting down “why does my nose run when I exercise?” garners enough Google hits to keep me up to my eyeballs in mucus-memories and snotball stories. There is even a scientific sounding name that pops up in answer to this question: exercise-induced rhinitis. Ooo! Science!

Symptoms of exercise-induced rhinitis are simple, according to FitSugar: if you’ve got extreme mucus madness fizzling around your nose and throat, a swarthy amount of lung butter, extra sneezes and watery eyes when busting out vigorous exercise indoors or outside, you’ve got yourself runner’s nose.

Now that we know what this rhino-runner is, it’s time to talk about the why’s. There are a few answers. From Livestrong.com, we’re told that “Various triggers irritate the nasal membranes, causing an episode of exercise-induced rhinitis…irritants in the air, odors or weather changes while running…environmental irritants like dust, smog, humidity and temperature [indoors and outdoors]”. So your sniffer’s issue may very well be an external influence. If you’re not a chronic slimer, jot down what the weather was like when you run, or where you were. You should be able to pinpoint your personal triggers and help yourself skip the snotting.

There’s another answer as to why as reported by Runner’s World a few years ago. Dimitry McDowell reports, “exercise-induced rhinitis, is most likely due to the increased air flow; as your breathing rate increases, your nose kicks into hyperactivity. ‘Cool and dry air—or both—have been shown to increase secretions, similar to what we see in exercise-induced asthma,’ says James Sublett, M.D., allergist and professor at the University of Louisville School of Medicine in Kentucky.” Yup. Your schnoz reacts to air. More air = uber productive nasal-land.

Finally, just know you’re not alone. So many people experience the runner’s nose that the Annals of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology surveyed 164 exercisers and found that 40 percent had a runny nose while exercising inside, and 56 percent had one outside. It’s not just me. And it’s not just you.

All these things, while perhaps uncomfortable, are thankfully not going to make or break an amateur athlete’s abilities. And besides, you have options. If you’re not sure how to cope with your raucous rhino-dilemma, here’s a quick break down of what you can do from easiest to more complicated:

1. Distraction!  View this, think of it when your nose runs, and become so scared your nose forgets to swell.
2.  Your Shirt! This is my preferred method – I wipe anything that leaks on my shirt. It’s not classy, but it gets the job done.
3. Tissue! You’ve got to remember to bring it, but stuffing some in your sports bra (not like that!) or in your waistband works well. Just don’t blow and throw.
4. Snot-Rockets! For the sake of my mother, I’m not going to describe this. Read about them here. Do NOT be tempted into watching a video of them if you intend on eating again this month.
5. Pills Pills Pills! Allergy medicine can assist in giving you some nasal reprieve, but you have to remember to take it.
6. Nose Bulb! Usually used for babies, pulling all the wet-stuff out of your cute little button can help ensure your nose stays dry.

Good luck out there, fellow snot-raconteurs.

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