Coach Patrick Here’s what I’m trying to fit in on a weekly basis for “strength”: • 8-10′ of slow dynamic stretching – a routine I’ve honed over the past 30+ years • 10-15′ of gluteal work, one leg at a time – trimmed down from all the stuff I’ve gleaned from PT visits over the past 3 years. Really seems to keep my knees happier • 20′ of dumbbell work: 2 sets of curls, tricep curls, wrist curls, & supine rows; push-ups & dips. I have abandoned squats for a while, might add some back, but those are only with 45#.
45-50′ total, 2 x a week, all at home for the past 16 months. Might be the longest I;ve been away from a gym since I was 17!
Last week: Swim x 2 OWS 1 hr & 1:10 Bike: 1 x VO2 set of 7x 2′(2′) @ 1.10-1.20 IF; 1 mtn ride of 47 mi/5200’/3:36, 2 good climbs @ 1 hour & 30′ Run x 6, 24 miles, including “long” run of 8.5 mi/90′
I’d planned another swim and another bike, but was either fatigued or torn up when the time came. Specifically, I bagged a planned two hour bike after Sunday morning’s long run. Main reason – I fell (in the grass/dirt) half-way thru the run, and got road rash on both elbows, as well as being a little mentally shook up.
Wellness report: Apart from cumulative fatigue… (1) my knees are OK. EXCEPT the day after the long run, I bagged a planned 30′ run as my left knee would stop hurting up after 0.5 km/5′ walk/jog warm-up. (2) More significant is the bladder stone I mentioned last post. No problems during the shorter runs, but again had hematuria after the long run. I’m contemplating switching to weekly hikes of 2+ hours instead of the runs. And I really need a walk/run plan for the 26.2 miles on race day.
PMC: I fell short by about 120 TSS, due to dropping the planned swim and bike. I’m not sure what I can sustain over the next two months. I may have to lower my expectations.
This coming week, I’m still doing the Get Faster plan. Mountain bike ride will be 4+ hours, and OWS will be 1 hr 30′. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle the long run. I’ll try again to get 3 swims, 5 shorter runs, a bike VO2 session, and a third bike.
Coach Reply:
Al Truscott yes, 100% we want to focus on locking in that run and toggling the paces and durations for success. From a macro perspective I like the idea of being conservative now and treating a ratio that is sustainable and allows you to rebuild your training mode. From that platform we can make decisions as to whether or not we want to modify things based off of what your body can handle.
The spreadsheet, I can’t believe he still had it!, It’s on my laptop. And I’m still making modifications for my eventual reply to you on the strategy.
Don’t force the intensity too much even though you’re on the flatlands with extra hard work. Nothing wrong with giving your body time to adapt, if required, to additional time on your feet by being cautious with the bike intensity.
In other news, would love to hear some of your strength goals as well if you have any. That’s also important.
Last week: Swim x 2 OWS 1 hr & 1:10 Bike: 1 x VO2 set of 7x 2′(2′) @ 1.10-1.20 IF; 1 mtn ride of 47 mi/5200’/3:36, 2 good climbs @ 1 hour & 30′ Run x 6, 24 miles, including “long” run of 8.5 mi/90′
I’d planned another swim and another bike, but was either fatigued or torn up when the time came. Specifically, I bagged a planned two hour bike after Sunday morning’s long run. Main reason – I fell (in the grass/dirt) half-way thru the run, and got road rash on both elbows, as well as being a little mentally shook up.
Wellness report: Apart from cumulative fatigue… (1) my knees are OK. EXCEPT the day after the long run, I bagged a planned 30′ run as my left knee would stop hurting up after 0.5 km/5′ walk/jog warm-up. (2) More significant is the bladder stone I mentioned last post. No problems during the shorter runs, but again had hematuria after the long run. I’m contemplating switching to weekly hikes of 2+ hours instead of the runs. And I really need a walk/run plan for the 26.2 miles on race day.
PMC: I fell short by about 120 TSS, due to dropping the planned swim and bike. I’m not sure what I can sustain over the next two months. I may have to lower my expectations.
This coming week, I’m still doing the Get Faster plan. Mountain bike ride will be 4+ hours, and OWS will be 1 hr 30′. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle the long run. I’ll try again to get 3 swims, 5 shorter runs, a bike VO2 session, and a third bike.
I started running @ age 50. I’m lean – 5’8.5″ (used to be 2″ taller)/146#, so excess weight is not an issue. But decades of weight lifting (heavy squats, leg extensions), hard-core skiing (bumps/moguls) and breaststroke swimming (whip kick) took their own toll on the cartilage which lines the inside of the knee joint. 3 years ago @ age 69, after an unnecessarily hard set of squats (450# on the sled), and an excessively long day of powder skiing two months later when I thought I’d healed, I went to see a sports med doc and an orthopod after getting an MRI. They said I had worn my cartilage down to the bone and cut out deep grooves in what little cartilage remained – an “ulcer”. Edema inflamed the femur.I decided to salvage what I could, as I still wanted to do a few more Ironman and other long-distance races, as well as ski and bike for the rest of my life. I began to read everything I could, and saw several physical therapists. The consensus: (1) cartilage will not grow back; (2) You can run as much as you want as long as it doesn’t hurt, (3) Some people use stem cell or platelet injection in an attempt to provide regeneration. I also learned about the three different compartments of the knee. The outer two are where the menisci are, where most of the load-bearing occurs, and mine were (relatively, I am 72) fine. The third, where the knee-cap rubs against the femur, had the damage.. I had pain primarily with things like walking downstairs, squats, and running hard, fast, long or often. I foolishly ignored all that, to the point where I did a 3K/120k/30k triathlon in May 2019, and, while I succeeded in getting 2nd pl in that ITU world championship, ended up literally not being able to walk for several days afterwards, I tried an IM the next month, and walked the last 10-12 miles. Again (like an idiot) I tried an IM in October, and quit after 17 miles of the marathon. I did finish an IM in November of that year. In the summer of 2019, I began doing what I call “gluteal” work, mainly 3-4 x/week exercises to strengthen the small muscles around the hip joint. I also started paying attention to my footfall, and to the ankle/knee/hip angles, the landing points, and the pronation which produced the least pain. I gradually increased my frequency, and added strides judiciously. I also stopped doing long runs, fast runs, and frequent runs. From October 2019 through 2020, things kept improving. I have been pain free for the last five months. I’m grateful for a race-free 2020 (I had been averaging 2 IMs a year since 2000), giving me this chance to heal. The exercises which I found most useful were:
1. “Dipping duck”. Imagine that toy where a duck continually leans forward into a water dish, then leans back up. Standing on one leg, keeping that knee straight, holding the other foot towards my butt, I lean forward close to 90 deg, then straighten up, making sure I feel the effort in the upper outer quad of the glute of the leg I’m standing on.
2. Hip Raises. Again, standing on one straight leg. Again focusing the effort on that same spot. Drop and raise the opposite hip, using the glute muscle of the leg I’m standing on.
3. Clam shells
4. Side leg raises
5. Single leg knee bends
6. Squats, now with lighter weights than I used to use, never going deeper than 90 deg
7. NO LEG EXTENSIONS!!!
I do the exercises 30x on each side, the squats, two sets. I suspect someone who is >;; 40 y/o and wants to have a life-long career in running and/or triathlon, should begin to take preventive measures involving strengthening the quads, hamstrings, and glutes, whether you have pain or not. As well as pay close attention to running technique, especially foot fall. And warming up those glutes before running, either by gradually increasing speed from walking thru jogging to running, vs. specific exercises. The older we get, the more warm-up we need. I also believe the received wisdom is wrong. We can repair cartilage, but it requires (1) stopping the ongoing damage, to allow healing to occur and (2) recognizing that it takes years, not weeks or months, to repair that damage. I also believe that if it doesn’t hurt, it’s okay to run, as long as you pay close attention to frequency, distance, and effort. If it hurts, go back a step. The body will heal, given the space to try.
Over the past three months, I’ve been learning and understanding what my book is about. I started writing with a story in mind, a beginning, middle, and end. I had themes I wanted to emphasize, characters I wanted to present, emotions I wanted to share. But I was unable to provide a succinct summary of the work as a whole, like what you might read on the inside cover flap of a hardbound book, or at the top of an Amazon page.
I first tried writing one the end of December, when I sent it off to the agent who gave a talk at the Bainbridge writers’ group. This past week, I revised it a few more times, after working through the excisions and revisions suggested in the editorial assessment I commissioned. I’ve learned what the core of the book is, the lodestar which all of its content must be tested against. Throwing away almost all of “Book Two”, many of the poems, much of the fluff related to Mike’s life, and then emphasizing several key points in the Janie/Mike relationship, I’ve arrived at the following. Ninety-two words, three sentences, takes 30 seconds to say:
“When her fantasies about a boy in French class turn real, 16 y/o Janie Stein must discover if she can balance love’s passionate pull with her family’s expectations of their valedictorian daughter when she enters Radcliffe College. The social and cultural turmoil of America in the late ’60’s adds to her dilemma as she and Michael Harrison navigate their path of deepening love. 15 years later, her diary from that time re-appears, and, guided by that fading signpost from the past, she recreates the story of those five years.”
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Whatever happened to the edict, “Businesses can choose whom they will and will not serve.”? E.g., no wedding cakes for gay couples. In the absence of any legislation requiring or prohibiting vaccine “passports”, then any business should be allowed to ban the unvaccinated. That’s how the free market works, right?
“Look!” I pointed out our study window, overlooking one of the five acres on which we live.
Cheryl, still asleep, or nearly so, could only mumble, “Mumpf?”
“A tree. A big one. It must have fallen recently. I didn’t hear it, but there it is…”
Trees fall frequently on our land. This alder crashed down during a windy rain which washed away a foot of snow, saturating ground already soft. Shallow roots lost their grip in the steep slope above the creek bordering our plot of Northwest woods.
Alders are weeds among the forest giants, the cedar, firs and hemlocks which surround us. Growing quickly, their shiny oval leaves quiver with the slightest stirring in the air. Thirty-some years ago, a plague of caterpillars infested our peninsula. Programmed to climb, they covered the bark of every alder, then branched out to decimate the leafy canopy. The soft incessant chewing sussurated like gentle rain. Many alders died that year, crashing down over the next decade, helping fill our wood pile for winter fires. The caterpillars appeared soon after the pollen storm which floats every March, showering the land with tiny alder seeds just before the leaves erupt. That year must have been propitious for renewal; most of the alders near us now, like this one which fell, are a foot and a half in diameter at the base, and present 33 rings when cut open.
I know this, because I counted them, hidden beneath the mossy bark, when I took my chain saw and began to methodically grind through the trunk sixteen inches at a time, the ideal size for our wood stove. Before I could dissect the alder, though, I had to work my way through its upper branches and those from a nearby maple which had blocked its descent.
We have never bought firewood since moving here in 1984, but every winter, we enjoy roasting, toasting by the stove on long and drizzly nights. Some years, enough trees fell to fill our wood pile. Others, I had to drop them myself. I don’t do that anymore, fearing I might lack the quickness to evade a wayward ton of lumber. Every tree I ever cut down fell exactly where I’d planned, but it’s not a record I want to test again.
Felling a tree to fall precisely is an art I taught myself, after reading and thinking it through. First, examine the natural lean. Going against the grain might result in the trunk dropping straight down, instead of at the preferred angle. Next, I look above for potential snags, branches or other trees still standing which could block or deflect. After choosing a drop zone, I cut a wedge from the trunk pointing towards that spot. The bottom should be horizontal, with another, upper cut down at angle, ending about one-third of the way through. Then, several inches above that wedge, on the opposite side, I start a horizontal cut. As the saw reaches the top of the wedge, the tree starts to crack and slowly shiver. That’s the time to look up and make sure it’s falling correctly, hit the dead-man switch, then quickly move in the opposite direction.
Once down, trimming the small branches takes little time. I’m left with stumps four inches in diameter to lop off into stove-size logs. Finally, a bare trunk remains. The ideal location for a fallen tree is on downward-sloping land. This allows the chunk being cut off to fall away from the main body, opening up the slit in which the saw proceeds. Even though my Makita chain saw is only fourteen inches long, I am able to cut through trees of two feet or more in diameter, by first arcing downward on the outside (away from me), then using the large teeth at the base of the saw to grip the wood, and continue straight down.
Now I have a large number of logs, most of them far too big to fit in the stove, or even to carry. I chop them into stove-sized pieces, another skill I had to learn. A heavy maul with an axe blade on one side is the best tool. Coupled with a four pound wedge, I’m able to split the wood to manageable size. The speed of the axe, the height from which I bring it – these are the subtle tools I use to minimize the work. I try to end up with logs of varying size, to aid the fire starting and maintenance process come winter.
At last, I load them into a wheelbarrow for a quick trip through our woods to the wood pile under the porch at the side of the house. Sometimes, I have to push the barrow uphill to get started, so placing its two legs on the flattest spot I can find is essential. Finally, I stack the logs, allowing for the newly exposed heartwood to air dry over summer.
Firewood warms you twice: once when you chop and stack it, then again when it burns.
Republicans are complaining the Biden administration is not practicing “Unity” when it expresses willingness to have Congress pass laws with only Democratic votes. Those who conflate “bipartisan” behaviour with “unity” are (deliberately?) missing the forest for the trees. President Biden, when urging Unity, was not intending it to be measured by vote counts in Congress. His vision, shared by most in this country I believe, is that political discourse proceed under certain shared, universal ideals. These include civility, respect for others’ differences, and the foundation of our country as a democracy which routinely peacefully passes power to the winners of elections. Our country was founded on the assumption there are always differences in approach to solving political problems. Our political system is designed to allow us to move forward peacefully, together, despite partisanship. Unity in process…
I don’t know where I copied this from, but it’s chock full of good information:
The science of running in the heatBody temperature and heat removal Why is running harder when it’s hot out? It all comes down to thermal regulation, as demonstrated in a widely-cited 1999 study by José González-Alonso and his coworkers at the August Krogh Institute in Denmark.1 The researchers conducted two separate experiments examining different aspects of heat regulation: body temperature and heat removal. In the first experiment, seven cyclists performed a ride to exhaustion at a predetermined effort in a hot laboratory. Before the ride, the cyclists were either “pre-heated” or “pre-cooled” in water baths for 30 minutes. The experiment was repeated three times, so each cyclist had started a trial with a body temperature of 96 °F (pre-cooled), 98 °F (control: no bath), and 100 °F (pre-heated). The cyclists then rode at 60% of their maximum effort (as monitored by oxygen intake) until exhaustion, all while having their internal temperature measured using a probe in their throat (positioned there so as to be close to the brain). As we might expect, the pre-heated cyclists did the worst, followed by the control group, and finally the pre-cooled cyclists, who were able to bike the longest. Interestingly, they all became exhausted at nearly the same internal temperature: about 104 °F. In the follow-up study described in the same paper,1 four cyclists (who were not pre-heated or cooled) cycled another trial to exhaustion in the heat while wearing specially-made jackets which had a large volume of water (either hot or cold) pumped through them continuously. These jackets either increased or decreased the rate of heat removal from the athlete’s core. Again, as we might expect, the subjects who were cooled by their jacket lasted significantly longer than the subjects who were heated. But again, whenever they reached 104 °F, the riders elected to stop. So it seems that the drop in performance associated with exercising in the heat is a form of “central” fatigue. That is, it’s not so much that the muscles themselves are getting tired prematurely; the body is actively moderating the rate of exercise when it starts to get too hot, probably to protect the brain from thermal damage. But people don’t (usually) suddenly stop running because of the heat—they just slow down. What’s going on there? How does the body control heat buildup during exercise – and what happens Important differences happen in a time-trial setting (as opposed to a work-to-exhaustion setting), as highlighted by a 2004 study by Tucker et al.2 His study examined cyclists completing a 20km time trial in a lab either at 95 °F or 59 °F. Predictably, the hot conditions resulted in slower times and higher internal temperatures. Peak internal temperature was the highest at the end of the ride, reaching 100 °F in the cool condition and 102 °F in the hot condition. But, most revealing was the pacing: the subjects in the hot time trial went slower from the start. The authors interpreted this as showing that the body has an “anticipatory” strategy for controlling heat buildup—that is, your performance is impaired even before you reach a “critical temperature.” This conclusion has been criticized because Tucker et al. measured rectal temperature, not esophageal temperature (which apparently can fluctuate more rapidly than core temperature, and is better correlated with brain temperature), but regardless, it proves an important thing for us: working out in the heat is not inherently dangerous, provided you listen to your body. The current theory is that, in most cases, the brain will pace the body (or just force you to give up) to stay within an acceptable heat range, and that cases of heat exhaustion and heat stroke are a failure of this mechanism (which occurs for reasons unknown as of yet). How long does it take to adapt to running in the heat That leaves us with one topic unexplored: adaptation. One of the reasons you’ve probably been feeling the heat recently is the fact that you haven’t been exercising in hot weather for several months. It’s well-demonstrated that adapted runners handle the heat better, mostly by getting their heat-regulating mechanism like sweating up and running sooner. But how long does it take to get adapted to the heat? A 2008 study by Sandström et al.3 addressed this issue by monitoring changes in an ultramarathoner’s blood during a 15-day heat adaptation period prior to a race. The researchers used heat shock protein 70, a blood marker that correlates with heat adaptation. The ultramarathoner had his blood tested every day of the 15-day taper. The results showed an initial boost in protein levels during the first five days of the taper, followed by a flat period of a few days, and then a slower, steady increase through the end of the study. Since Hsp70 levels were still increasing, the researchers concluded their study wasn’t long enough! Full heat adaptation appears to take upwards of two weeks, even though there’s a strong response in the first few days. Now, this study was only done with one subject, so your own adaptation pattern may vary, and we’ll have to wait on further studies using this method of measuring heat adaptation. What you can learn from the science We’ve seen that heat can be a significant detriment to your performance. No matter which way you look at it, the body does not do well when its core temperature increases past a certain point. While it’s reasonably safe to go for a run or line up for a race even when it’s hot out, you also need to listen to your body and be honest with yourself. You’re not going to be able to run the same pace when it’s 85 degrees out that you can when it’s 65. To help you determine how much the heat will effect your running performance, we’ve created a simple calculator for you. As you’ve undoubtedly been told, staying hydrated is a critical component to keeping the body cool and replenishing the water and electrolytes you sweat out. To make determining your hydration needs easier, we’ve created this simple sweat loss calculator for runners. For more tips on when and what to hydrate with, you can also read our summer hydration article. If you’re a runner who sweats excessively or who has major issues running in the heat, you can also try a technique called “hyper-hydration“. Hyper-hydration involves using nutritional supplements to store extra water, which will help keep you hydrated longer should you be a heavy sweater. González-Alonso’s two studies give us a clue as to how to overcome the heat too: try to stay cool for as long as possible! Pre-cooling before a race or hard workout is a scientifically proven method to help improve performance in the heat. My college coach used to have the team douse ourselves in ice-water before the start of a hot race—you can do this too as a low-tech alternative to González-Alonso’s water-cooling jacket and “pre-cooling” baths. You can also probably curtail your warm-up a bit on hotter days, since you don’t want to elevate your core temperature prematurely. You can try implementing a dynamic warm-up such as a lunge series or active isolated stretching, which take less energy, but still loosen up your running muscles. You can find these routines as part of our strength training for runners guide. Finally, you can take comfort in the fact that, while heat adaptation may take a period of several weeks, early evidence indicates that you’ll see a strong boost in adaptation within five days or so of exercising in hot weather.
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Early humans – the ones who walked 6 miles a day to find roots and animals to eat – did not exercise. That is, they did not set aside an hour here or there to “get in shape” for hunting and gathering. Their current-day counterparts, clans in the isolated wilds of East Africa, Indonesia, central America, and the Amazon, continue that life-style, one of spending three to four hours a day finding or preparing food, eight hours sleeping, and the rest devoted to sitting. They talk, work on crafts, or simply lounge. But they do not train.
Daniel Lieberman, a Harvard professor of evolutionary anthropology, in his new book, Exercised, asks the question, “If we did not evolve to exercise, why do we?” He opens his quest in Kona, on the Big Island of Hawaii, watching the 2012 Ironman World Championship. Supremely fit endurance athletes from all over the globe gather annually to test themselves, having trained – exercised – 20 hours a week for months, sometimes years, to swim, bike and run for eight to seventeen hours, collapsing at the finish. He wonders, not why they come, but rather how they are able to do something their ancestors 6000 generations ago would never contemplate.
He outlines the metabolism of inactivity, the physiology of senescence (growing old), the mechanism of muscle contraction and the effect of exercise on disease in his eclectic review of how and why we exercise. Along the way, he considers the importance of being lazy, why sitting may not be the new smoking, and the value of sleep. Moving on from inactivity, he analyzes speed, strength, and power. A runner himself, he reports on his time with runners in Mexico’s Copper Canyon (the Tarahumara) and the East African highlands. He observes a UFC cage match, considering how we may have evolved to be peaceful except in reaction to threat.
Running in the 2018 Boston Marathon, a notoriously rainy and windy affair, he wonders why he kept going, what possessed him to endure such conditions for nothing more than bragging rights. While watching an aboriginal all-night celebration, featuring hours of dancing to exhaustion, he notes the similarity between dance and running. Both involve hoping from one foot to another. Dancing, found in all cultures, is both a ritual and means of social cohesion. The communal nature of dancing leads to his final observations: exercise is best done with a goal, in the company of others.
Lieberman has drawn together studies from a wide-range of scientific disciplines, the common thread of exercise is woven into a picture of how modern humans can use skills and attitudes inherited from ancient peoples to live a long and healthy life. And, he answers the question which vexes all endurance athletes: Why don’t I want to go out and train today? Because we weren’t “born to run”. We are born to be lazy.
