Archive for the ‘Injuries and Owies’ Category

It’s definitely not the way I anticipated beginning 2017.

It happened the Sunday before the Christmas weekend.  I went out for an anticipated long 100 minute progression run (I run in increments of 20 minutes now).  Shitty thing was, Mother Nature decided to throw me a curve ball as she is apt to from time to time by hurling down an epic ice storm the night before.

So, yeah, no progressions that day.

No problem – long, slow distance it was then – and out the door I went after my morning breakfast, coffee and poop ritual.  I had already convinced myself that if I managed to keep it slow and steady, I could still complete the 100 minutes and the workout could still be chalked up as a success.  The only other option was to do it on the treadmill at the gym and, yeah, no.  Fuck no!

Thing is though, I don’t think I felt solid pavement under my feet once.  Every road I ran – even the back roads that I thought would have been at least somewhat gravely and forgiving traction-wise – had fuck all to offer as far as solid footing was concerned.  In fact, to give you some idea what I was up against today, I got passed along Gilmore Rd. by an elderly couple…on skates.

Yes, skates.

There they went merrily on their way down the middle of the road in the middle of Buttfuck Stevensville on old beat up skates going heaven-knows-where.  Needless to say, my pace completely sucked (5:54min/km) and by the end of 90 minutes my quads were so shot that when my neighbor passed by and jokingly called out if I wanted a ride home I was all like “fuck ya!”, shut off the Garmin and hoped in – which is why for those of you who follow me on Strava, my run stopped abruptly at the corner of Nigh and Ridge Rds.  I just didn’t have the wherewithal to navigate the last 3k of black ice home again.

F-u-c-k that.

The next day, my right shin was tight…very tight.  So much so, I bunked off running for the rest of the week and for the first time in 8 years, I did nothing on Christmas Day.

Nothing.

I usually run a half marathon distance Christmas Morning (it’s a tradition) and there was the one year that I rowed a half marathon instead (click HERE), but this year:  nada.

Things started to get better gradually and the following weekend I started running easy for 60 minutes or so and successfully completed two of those, along with a few short drill and tempo runs during the week.  I thought things were progressing well so I decided to push my luck and try a short fartlek run again.

I’m such an idiot.

My only success that day was that I managed to complete the first 5 x 2 minute hard intervals (7.83k).  ‘Ol Thunder n’ Lightning felt tired but I cold attribute that to the 3 minutes of squats I did this morning as part of my 28 Day Challenge (click HERE).  But shortly afterwards, it was a quick slippery shit show of a slide straight to the bottom when my right calf/shin pretty much stiffened up forcing me to hobble like Paul Sheldon after his run in with Annie.  I could have kept running but I knew that would have be really special kind of stupid.  So, instead, in a bit of a panic as it was starting to rain down sleet and I was already cold, wet and still some distance from home, I did what I have never done before…stuck out my thumb and shamefully hitched a ride home with my tail between my legs.

How.  Embarrassing.

So what the hell went so wrong around the 7k mark when all my other runs the past two weeks have been getting progressively better?  Well, the last time I truly suffered on one of these runs I was wearing those exact same shoes (ASICS GEL 3030-2).  Upon inspection of my Strava account upon getting home I saw that they now have exactly 482.6 kilometers on them, give or take the treadmills sessions I’ve done over the past year or so, yeah, maybe this aggravation of my calf/shin issue is a by-product of that?

Well, that and my being a dumbass of course.

So now I’m on the injured list again.

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Fucksticks.

I’m quite confident at this point that what I’m dealing with is muscular and while I’m still injured, I’m not necessary damaged per se.  In other words, nothing popped indicated a torn muscle or ligament.  So that’s good.

However, it’s still sore.

As it turns out, there is a very good likelihood that I am suffered from what’s known as an “increased neural drive” to my right calf muscle.

Don’t panic, I’m not dying.

Here’s the skinny as I understand it, when you perform any action for an extended period of time – in my case, running – the body has two ways to power that movement, through the natural fuel that I consume (carbohydrates, proteins, and what have you) or through an automatic neural activation from the brain to the muscles themselves, known as neutral drive to the muscle.

The human body is essentially designed to move, specifically over long periods and distances, so once the primary fuel source begins to deplete itself that automatic neural drive begins to kick in and take over allowing the body to keep going by wiring electrical synapses directly to the muscle.  When it comes down to it, our bodies are primarily wired to be instinctively cavemen-like and we have evolved to allow us to keep running as there are gazelles to catch and mouths to feed, so to speak, so we have to keep going in order to survive.  This is likely what happened on that first long run when things began to go terribly wrong; I was tired, under-fueled and running with a poor form on the ice.

The problem is, that once this automatic neural drive kicks on, it doesn’t necessarily know when to cease and desist meaning that even though I had stopped and didn’t need to run anymore, unconsciously, my body was still in lion-mode chasing down gazelles on the African plain.

It definitely sounds cooler when I explain it that way, right? (thanks Dr. Burr)

Anyway, now that it’s fired up and causing me grief, what can I do in the meantime until it decides that enough is enough?  So while I go through my physio treatments with Dr. Burr at the amazing Legacy Health & Performance to coax my calf to give up on the gazelles already and just be, the question remains:

Now what?

My concern then is how do I continue with my training so that I a) don’t necessarily lose all my acquired run fitness and b) promote healing and no make the issue any worse?

My options then are twofold:

  1. Walking/slow shuffling
  2. Shallow water running

That’s if I don’t consider sitting on the couch doing nothing but eating bags of Ring-Ding’s mind you.

Luckily, I don’t.

Walking or the “slow shuffle” is aimed at replacing the longer non-stop runs. If the injury is not too severe then this can take the form of long hikes and to add resistance, the use of a weight jacket.  Now, I have no intension on strapping any more weight onto this already hulking frame, thank you very much, but I get the point. This type of shuffling would have the same duration of my current long distance times (ie. 60 minutes).  Case in point, Chrissie Wellington when training for Ironman Frankfurt completed all her runs as hikes and finished the race just a few seconds off the World Record.

I’m not so sure it would play out this way for me, of course, but it definitely beats the Ring-Ding’s.

I could do this slow shuffle (below any pain discomfort) on the track upstairs at my local gym on the outside lane in place of my Sunday long runs.  I’m sure it’ll be gutting to be lapped by all the old ladies walkers but if it’s aiding in m recovery while keeping me moving – so be it!

I’ll think of it as building mental strength through self-control.  I’ll just keep “shuffling” while everyone else just walks laps (literally) around me. This type of training has been adapted from Kenyan runners training methodologies.

For many Kenyan groups it is not even a debatable point on whether to ‘push on’ in continuing with the group track work. Injured athletes will often shuffle on the outside lane till their compatriots have finished. Very few carry the Western propensity to push on or hard when injured. The pace instead dictated by the ‘no pain level’.  Think of it as discipline in its most basic form.

And then there’s “shallow water running”, carried out in waist deep water.  Luckily, my local pool has such a wading pool for the kiddies.  This exercise would build (or maintain, however you wish to look at it) strength while still keeping in touch with the ground.  The run mechanics would change,  sure, as this form of running forces me onto the ball of the foot but the big advantage is that, hopefully, I can get back run form quickly.  Varying the depth of the water can even assist with the rehabilitation of various injuries until transitioning back to normal running.

I gave this specific shallow water workout a trial this past weekend and, holy shit!  It’s absolutely challenging!

What’ya know?

In fact, after 6-7 minutes of Figure-8’s I was absolutely sweating buckets seeing as how humid it was.  I’ve never considered this before seeing as how I’m always swimming in the pool and therefore submerged in water.  I’m not so sure the other people in the wading pool with me were as thrilled about my hard work (ie. perspiration) was I was but, meh, fuck ‘em.

After running repetitive Figure-8’s from the shallow end to waist deep water what I can absolutely guarantee you is that my legs were toast!  However, there was no pain.  So that’s definitely good.  The only drag was my having to constantly avoid all the mothers and babies and kids and whatever the hell it is that the creepy old dude was doing in the corner.

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There is also the deep water variety that I could perform with a floatation belt, but I’m not sure I’m 100% ready to delve into that level of crazy just yet.  If this injury goes on longer than another week or so, I will explore that option more closely but for the time being I think the shallow water running and track shuffling will suffice.

So my plan over the next two weeks or so is to supplement my three weekly runs with either a shallow water session or track shuffle and, hopefully, get myself back on track in February without having sacrificed too much fitness.

Knock on wood.

Bang the Drum Slowly

Posted: October 17, 2016 in Injuries and Owies, Swim
Tags: , ,

I get that injuries and ouchies are a part of triathlon.  I get it.  Really I do.  I have an entire category dedicated to them in this blog alone (click HERE).  But worse than the stupid self-inflicted injuries that come of my either doing too much, or doing it too soon, or just my being a dumbass, whatever, are those injuries that I unfortunately incur at the hands of someone else; another dumbass, if you will.

Those injuries, well, they tend to really bug me.

I have recently fallen to one of these types of ouchies which is now threatening to set back my regular swim training.

It began about two weeks ago when after one of my pool workouts, my right ear became plugged with water.  This in and of itself, is nothing to freak out about and I have long become accustomed to it happening periodically.  I figure that when one tends to spend stupid amounts of time submerged in contained bodies of water it’s bound to happen eventually – and it does.  What typically happens then is that a day or two will go by before that little pocket of water in my ear shifts and drains out my ear canal in a teny tsunami of warm fluid which, truthfully, feels awesome.  I figure most swimmers will liken this to a total “eargasm”.  Once this happens, usually after we’ve been lying down on that blocked side for a spell, all is right with the world again.

Sometimes, however, that blockage is a bit more stubborn and simply refuses to give up its stored up bounty of fluid – this is what is referred to as “Swimmers Ear”, or acute otitis externa.  This is highly annoying and exactly the case I found myself in exactly one week after that original blockage.  The symptoms can stem from echoing, itching or clogged feeling in the ear – and lots of discomfort (often a signal of an inflammation of the skin within the ear canal that occurs when water gets trapped there).

I my case it was “all of the above”.

Of course, I could have been doing lots of stuff during that week to be proactive (click HERE) but, as I’ve stated before, I’m a dumbass, and often when the opportunity to be smart and act accordingly comes along, I tend to fold like a Renaissance triptych.  I figured it would just unblock itself eventually.

It didn’t, and so a week later, on a Thursday morning, bright and early, I got up at 6:00am, poured myself a coffee, grabbed my book and headed to the local Urgent Care to have tie issue, hopefully, sorted out.

After about two hours, I was met with by the attending physician in an examination room who proceeded to attempt to flush out the blockage with a syringe full of warm water; not an altogether pleasant experience, believe me.  What he was trying to do was wash out a build-up of excessive wax that had gathered in my ear naturally, as protection against moisture and infection.

In this case, though, my bodies wax manufacturing system was working on overdrive and had instead build it up to the point that it was not allowing what water that did manage to breach its defenses, back out again.  I guess when it comes to wax manufacturing, by body runs with the efficiency of a Japanese auto factory.

What came out of my right ear as a result of the doctor’s “syringing” looked like something you might place on top of a birthday cake and light except, well, much nastier.  Almost immediately afterwards, I was rewarded with that warm gush of fluid out my ear and – low and behold – I could hear normally again.

Winning.

But then it all went horribly wrong and downward spiraled into a total Yakov Smirnoff opening for the Spin Doctor’s at the Iowa State Fair-like shit show.

You see, we decided that, hey, we may as well do the other ear while we’re at it.  After all, if one side is totally gummed up with wax then the other side can’t be too far off, right?  So we opted to give my left ear the same working over with another syringeful of water.

Unfortunately, this did not go as smooth as the other ear.  Within seconds of blasting the water into my ear I experienced an intense pain that was on my Top 5 of all-time painful moments.  Ladies and gentlemen, over the course of my life I have shot an arrow through my hand, subjected myself to being tattooed (click HERE) and endured being kicked square in the Charlie Brown’s by a scorned Eva Roditis on the schoolyard playground back in Grade 3, and this pain was definitely worse than any of those.

Much worse!

If the pain wasn’t enough, hearing (well, barely hearing the doctor that is) the doctor mumble “uh oh” definitely didn’t help matters any.  I definitely felt warm fluid coming out my ear but, but this fluid ended up not being water or another wax build-up, but blood…lots and lots of blood.

“I think I just perforated your ear drum”, he says casually.

FML.

Not winning.

A ruptured eardrum is a small tear in the thin membrane that separates your outer ear from your inner ear.  That membrane, known as the tympanic membrane, is made of tissue that resembles skin.  The eardrum serves two important functions in your ear.  It senses vibrating sound waves and converts the vibration into nerve impulses that convey the sound to your brain.  It also protects the middle ear from bacteria as well as water and foreign objects.  Normally, the middle ear is sterile, but when the eardrum is ruptured, bacteria can get into the middle ear and cause an infection known as otitis media.

Yay.

The doctor then informed me that I wouldn’t be able to swim for at least a week.  Shit sticks!  Furthermore, I would also undergo injecting four drops of antibiotics (which, as an interesting side-note here, my loving wife would place under her boob to warm up for me prior to dropping them in my ear – meaning my drops would now become affectionately known as “mommies boob juice” – how emasculating is that for an aspiring Ironman swimmer?) into my ear every morning and evening and then see my family doctor for clearance before getting back in the pool.

FML x 2.

Anyway, another week goes by of being injected twice daily with “boob juice” and I’m back at my family doctor’s (yesterday) to learn that a) there’s still wax in both ears, b) my ear drum is likely not healed yet, and c) I still can’t swim for approximately another two weeks.

FML x 3.

Needless to say I’m pretty discouraged at this point and now looking for viable options to protect my ear temporarily while it heals so I can at least get back in the pool, meaning, I need ear plugs.

Yay, again.

Remember this idiot (click HERE)?

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Yeah, I just took another colossus step to becoming them.

Not really knowing anything about ear plugs, I stopped by the local pharmacy to see what options were available.  In fact, there was a whole cornucopia of options; an entire rackful located inside an entire aisle of ear and hearing-related products.  It was like the pharmaceutical equivalent of a “Turducken“.  Who knew there was such a profound market for ear plugs?  But then again, come to think of it, my grandma probably kept her local pharmacist driving around in a Rolls Royce for the last 10 years of her life given how much stuff she had crammed into her ears on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, none looked very promising.  Most were either the variety used for noise protection, sleeping, or as my grandma used to claim, “keeping the wind out of my ears”.   I’m pretty sure one was just a little baggie of candy corn.  However, there was this one waterproof variety of which I was still a bit skeptical:

They’re essentially little wads of soft, tacky silicon that you warm up by rolling in the palm of your hand and then stuffing into your ear to create a waterproof seal.

Like so:

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I was dubious but I gave it a shot (at home) anyway and, honestly, it felt like I had just stuffed a Gummy Bear into my ear.  Likewise, I was doubtful that they would ever really stay in place in the water and, even then, they were only for a single use only.  Needless to say, I didn’t feel safe actually testing these things in the water so they were more or less tossed into the bottomless abyss of shit under my bathroom sink.

Then I found these TYR molded ear plugs at Team Aquatics in Burlington.  Besides being manufactured by a recognized swim equipment brand name, they weren’t the disposable variety. Instead they were marketed as “long lasting silicone” plugs made for swimmers, by swimmers.

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These definitely looked more promising.

Among the other benefits listed on the package was “allows hearing during use”.  I like hearing stuff when I swim, so this was a definitely bonus.  I couldn’t hear shit with the other soft silicon Gummy Bear variety in my ears.

However, they were a little more complicated to insert as opposed to just cramming a wad of silicon into your ear.

From the instructions:

“Top straight edge of the ear plug core should be in a perpendicular line with the face.  Outer rim fits into the hollow depression behind the ear canal.”

Umm, okay.

Who knew shoving soothing into your ear could be so difficult?

But then again, the instructions did also add:

“DO NOT PUSH THE EARPLUG SO FAR INTO THE EAR THAT YOU’RE UNABLE TO GET IT OUT.”

Gee, thanks.

Anyway, with a little twisting and prodding I did manage to maneuver them into what I think was the proper “perpendicular line (my) face” :

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And – get this – I could still hear fairly well.

Cool!

For good measure then, I also threw a swim cap on which I never really wear in the pool just to help keep them in place (hey, I already have plugs in my ears to I might as well go whole hog and look the part of the total swim geek) and entered the pool to give them a trial run (swim?).

Upon my first few laps they felt pretty comfortable actually.  However, that “allows hearing” thing went right out the window as everything sounded more, well, in utero I guess…which, truthfully, was very relaxing.  Maybe it was just because I also couldn’t hear the Ariana Grande bullshit they were playing on the pool deck between strokes anymore, whatever, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

I was a bit worried that maybe they weren’t completely watertight and that water was now leaking into the gaping hole of my tympanic membrane and I – unbeknownst to me – going deaf with each additional stroke so I kept my swim short to a few drills only (1300m).

Upon finishing, I unstuck the earplugs and everything immediately returned to blissful normality; no muting, no sloshing around in the ear, no nothing.

Beautiful!

Besides making me look like a total swim pussy, the plugs had done their job and held tight in preventing water from entering into my ear, meaning, that I can now get back to my usual weekly swim workouts while my ear drum continues to heal for another week or so.

Back to ‘winning’ again!

Oh, and what does the remainder of this “healing” process look like?  Well, absolutely nothing for the next 10 days while the membrane rebuilds itself and then I have start adding basic cooking oil into my ears to begin loosening up whatever wax that might still be lingering around in my ear.   Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Yeah.

Not so much.

Thankfully it’s not forever.

(edited:  10/19/16)

So after Sunday’s “trial swim” I was up early and in the pool at 6:30am ready to get my swim on.  Unfortunately, after the first 300m or so, one of the war plugs slipped out and, yeah, nowhere to be found, meaning that I was now forced to abandon my planned workout and doing a stupid amount of kicking drills instead so I could keep my head above water.

And you just know how I love  my kicking drills!

After informing the lifeguard what had happened, she put out the APB to all the other bobbers and floaters in the pool.  Basically, the whole pool was not on Amber Alert for my missing plug.

After 20 minutes or so, they were found by an old lady…four lanes over…on the opposite of the pool…on the bottom.

So much for “floats in water”.

Thanks, TYR.  Great job there.

NOT!

Exactly seven days ago (as of this writing anyway) I came down with a stabbing pain in the middle of my back. It was (is) absolute agony.  I have no idea from whence it came.  Did it come as the result of my first easy drill run that afternoon, or is it the residual effect of lugging around heavy tents and wet floor mats on and off a truck for the SunRype Tri-KiDS days earlier?  I dunno.  All I do know is that it feels like somebody is repetitively plunging a carving knife into my back.  It totally blows.

I initially thought it was a knot or some sort of muscle spasm and tried to treat it with a topical pain relief lotion but that only ended up with my nearly getting third degree burns (click HERE).  I then dosed myself up on ibuprofen to no avail. I even went so far as to have a co-worker at the office walk on my back.  Nada.  Although I might have developed a new fetish for Geisha girls.

Nothing worked.  The pain just got increasingly worse and worse and for five days I barely slept and I pretty much existed in a constant state of agony and while things have improved marginally since then, I am still in lots of discomfort and I’m popping Tylenols like Pez.  Likewise, I’m now constantly walking around slouched over like a vampire cowering away from the sun.

FML.

This was supposed to be my big week back to Ironman training and here I am barely able to make it up the stairs without crying out in pain.  Needless to say I’m pretty frustrated.

Eventually I figured that I had had enough and decided to call in the Big Guns, namely the good people at Legacy Health & Performance, my go-to peeps for all things ouchie.  I booked a massage appointment with Nicole and also received an initial adjustment and assessment by Dr. Burr.  Neither really seemed to know what the issue was as it’s very difficult to treat something so completely systemic.

FML x 2.

I went to my family doctor and was told it was a simple muscle spasm (it wasn’t) and that I should just try and relax and wait for it to pass.  Oh, and she prescribed me some anti-inflammatories which were rather like throwing water balloons at a twelve alarm fire.  Fuckers!  Relax?  Yeah, right!  Ever try to relax  with an ice pick constantly being twisted between your shoulder blades?

Good luck with that.

Since then we have made some progress (at Legacy, not the doctor) in that we now realize that my symptoms (as they’ve changed somewhat since the first few days) indicate something known as ‘Dorsal Scapular Nerve Syndrome’ (click HERE).

Sounds catchy, eh?

Hey, wait, I thought it was dolphins and whales that had dorsals?

Nevermind.

Basically, DSNS is characterized by symptoms of a generalized dull ache along the medial border of the scapula, radiating into the lateral surface of the arm and forearm (which has only started to occur recently).  Now, when you read “Dull” here, think “OMFG that’s torture!”  because, baby, it was.  “Dull” just doesn’t do it justice at all.

So what’s the plan of attack?

Acupuncture.

FML x 3.

I’ve actually had acupuncture before years ago when I was suffering from plantar fasciitis.  At the time I was seeing some quack chiropractor who was more interested in hooking me up to his TENS unit which, I’m sure, was a relic of the Cold War.  Afterwards he would jab a few needles into the souls of my feet and then fuck off for an hour or so leaving me alone in the darkened room to contemplate by pathetic circumstance.

I still remember my first appointment. When I entered the examining room he immediately lowered the lights, closed the blinds and switched on some soothing muzac.  I recall thinking: “is he going to treat me or fuck me?”

Now, if you’ve never had needles plunged into the souls of your feet before it’s really no different than what you’re probably thinking already:  it sucks.  An action you would expect to be preceded by the statement “we ‘av vays of making you talk”.  Anyway, this process repeated itself a few times a week for over a year with no improvement whatsoever.  I realize now being a bit older and wiser, that he was just milking my benefits until they ultimately ran out and I was cast aside like a discarded coffee cup.

That was seven years ago and my feelings about acupuncture are largely connected to that experience.  A barbaric practice geared more towards satisfying the sadistic impulses of the administrator than for the benefit and ultimate relief of the patient.The whole thing kinda made me feel like this:

Or, maybe this guy:

I wasn’t a fan.

So when Dr. Burr suggested we also try acupuncture I was all like:

However, in an effort to make peace with this whole acupuncture thing I decided to do a little research on why so many people seem to accept and appreciate it as a viable treatment practice.  After all, how can 1.3 billions Chinese people be wrong?

Acupuncture is a form of alternative medicine and a key component of traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) involving inserting thin needles into the body at acupuncture points.  Most commonly, it is associated with pain relief. Acupuncture as a practice can be traced back at least 2,500 years.  The general theory is based on the premise that there are patterns of energy flow (Qi) through the body that are essential for health.  Disruptions of this flow are believed to be responsible for disease.  Acupuncture may, it has been theorized, correct imbalances of flow at identifiable points close to the skin.

The practice of acupuncture to treat identifiable pathophysiological (disease) conditions in American medicine was rare until the visit of President Richard M. Nixon to China in 1972.  Since that time, there has been an explosion of interest in the United States and Europe in the application of the technique of acupuncture to Western medicine.

Now, does any of this help my feelings towards acupuncture?

Not one bit.

So Tricky Dick liked him some acupuncture.

Whoopee shit.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, plus I trust Dr. Burr implicitly (she did successfully lay out the foundation for the whole “We Can Rebuild Him” plan two years ago).  So if acupuncture is what she recommends, acupuncture is what I will do.  I made another appointment then with Nicole who also doubles as the clinics acupuncture specialist.

At my appointment I was invited to lie face down on the massage table which, it has to be said, is my favorite thing about the Legacy Health & Performance clinic as this table and I have really bonded over the past two years. This made sense given that I wouldn’t be getting needles into my feet today but, rather, my back and neck.  This was fine by me as I’d rather not watch the entire process as I had before, thank you very much.  Nicole asked me try and relax which, again, I find to be pretty impossible given the situation.  I did my best however.

For the next 5-10 minutes or so, she popped these needles into specific spots in the back of my neck, my back and along my left arm and hand since I have been experiencing numbness and a tingling sensation down my left side.  Oh, and let’s not forget about the one that she stuck directly into the top of my head.

Ever had a needle shoved into the top of your head?

Yeah.

Once they were all in and I adequately resembled a human pin cushion I was left to “relax” (there’s that word again) for 15 minutes or so before they were then extracted which, I must say, was less harrowing then the whole inserting them thing.

Did I notice any improvement afterwards?

Maybe a little.

Did I find it relaxing?

Shit no.

Will I go again?

If it’s suggested, sure.

Will I enjoy it anymore?

Doubtful.

But if it’s a means to an end to get over this damnable pain in my back once and for all so I get on with my Ironman training (nevermind just being able to sleep normally again), I will do whatever it takes.

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Needles in the head and all.

Everyone gets little niggles from time to time.  In my case, lately, it’s been this nagging knot right between my shoulder blades.

I woke up with it this past Sunday morning but at the time it was no big deal and I wasn’t worried about it, like, at all.  I just chalked it up to sleeping wrong, or maybe twisting the wrong way in the shower, or whatever, and I simply went about my business.  I barely even noticed it for the remainder of the day. On Monday morning, there it was again, only a little worse this time.  I went for a fun swim in the canal with the Coach and kids and it seemed to work itself out.  But that night, ouchie, the small niggle had worked itself up into a bigger niggle and suddenly going to sleep wasn’t quite so easy as I couldn’t get comfortable enough.  Instead, I lied awake, tossing and turning and readjusting the pillow over and over again hoping to find a position that allowed me to lie more comfortably and fall asleep.  It didn’t happen.

By yesterday I was more than annoyed and even straightening up to walk around the house was a chore.  I felt like some decrepit old man, which, HRH  was kind enough to keep pointing out; ever my biggest fan.

Anyway, by yesterday evening I had had enough and decided that I had to do something.  I went routing through my gym bag looking for my trusty tube of A5-35 but, when I fished it out, I was disheartened to see that it was all caked with crude and mold.  Clearly, I haven’t used this thing since the early 90’s judging by the green ring of crust around the cap.

FML.

I scoured the cabinets, my shaving kits, the cupboards and turned up nothing.

Shit.

Then I came across this:

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A little sample packet of ‘Lakota Topical Pain Reliever’ with the words “MUSCLE PAIN” emblazoned in green across its front.  It was like a gift from God sent directly down from the Heavens for my benefit.  I think I might have even given a little prayer of thanks.

Anyway, they used to hand these things out in the schwag bags at local running races and triathlons and, usually, they just ended up in the garbage.  But, hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, amiright?

I quickly browsed the back of the packet and was pleased to read:

“For temporary relief of aches and pain of muscles. Relieves muscle pain associated with overuse, intense exercise, sprains and injury.”

Sweet.

Sign me up.

So after dinner I cracked open the packet and had the kid liberally apply the rather odd smelling goo to my back. “It looks like snot”, she told me.  It was a real bonding moment, let me tell you.  Afterwards we went down to watch some television.

At first, it kind of tingled and I figured, ‘Great! It’s working.’  But then the tingle turned to heat.  ‘Okay, this is a bit intense, but I can manage’  I thought.  Then the heat turned to REAL heat and I started to worry.  In fact, calling it ‘heat’ at this point would be like describing molten lava as simply ‘tepid’.  And even then, there’s “hot”, and then there’s HOT.  And this was definitely HOT.  I started to stress as sweat began to pour off my forehead.  Surely this weird devil’s concoction would reach its critical mass, boiling point, or whatever, and begin to subside, right?

Wrong.

It just kept escalating, like, seriously escalating.  It was like a hot plate had been applied directly to my back.  What the fuck are the Lakota’s putting in this shit anyway?  Napalm?

After 20 minutes or so, it was like somebody had poured gasoline over my back and lit it on fire and I was concerned I was blistering…it was that bad.  Furthermore, HRH’s little pinkies were also beginning to burn as well.

Oh crap.

What have I done?

I scanned the packet again and was dismayed to see further down, ‘Risk Information’.

“Transient irritation, burning, stinging, or redness are normal, expected actions and usually diminish after repeated application.”

NORMAL?!

They’re fucking with me, right?

Being on fire is not normal.

Warm and tingly, surely…hot, maybe…on fire, shit no!

By this time I was in a full blown panic and went to the bathroom to take full stock of the situation.  Upon doing so I hear, “Terry! Oh my god! Your back!”

Oh shit.

And don’t just take my word for it, check this out:

image3

Yeah.

Here’s a closer look:

image1

Not good.

In short, I freaked.  I jumped into the shower and blasted the cold water over my back.  Except in its current angry state this wasn’t exactly as relieving as I had hoped it would be.  Every single drop of water that spit out of the shower facet felt like a little razor slicing into my sensitive skin.  It was painful and I could only stand a minute or so before I hopped out and sprinted upstairs to find the cold, soothing sunburn cream which I then had HRH  rub into my back as well.  I’m sure I’ve probably left some sort of mental scar on her at having to rub lotion into the back of her half naked stepfather but, at this point, I was in absolute agony.

I shit you not.

The only thing that would ease the burning scalding sensation was applying an ice pack directly to my back.  Afterwards, I had to wrap myself in a towel soaked in cold water so that I was now walking around like a genuinely injured man.

Not unlike this:

Except with less dancing, of course.

After an hour or so the burning finally started to subside a bit and my back slowly returned to normal.

Thank Christ!

The knot, however?  Absolutely no difference; it was still right there between my shoulder blades where it had always been.  I guess my suffering had been in vane.

So, this begs the question: what in the sweet Sam Hell is in that Lakota crap anyway?

Reviewing the packet once more I note the ingredients include: Canada Balsam, Birch Oil, Juniper Berry, Yarrow and Capsaicin. Sound innocent enough, right?  Well, I went looking on Google this morning and discovered that Capsaicin is actually a by-product of chili peppers.

Great!

So, basically, it’s pepper spray for your skin.

Awesome.

I also noted that that the Lakota website suggested that I might have to apply it 3 or 4 times daily during the “initial stages of use”.  Umm, yeah, no.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance.

Personally, I’d rather dive into an active volcano than ever apply this stuff again.   I mean, seriously, you’d have to be a complete and utter sadist to ever rub this shit into your skin more than once.

So, what do I think of this Lakota product in general?

image2

Note the ice pack still on my back.

I think I’ll just carve out the knot myself with a soup spoon as that would be infinitely less painful.

I’m three weeks into my recovery period and, truthfully, I’m driving myself crazy.  I think many triathletes may feel the same way.  We know it’s important to have this recovery time to heal and rejuvenate our bodies (or, in my case, knew it was important but never actually did anything about it) but suddenly, having all that time back in our week where we would usually be out training is hard to fill productively. It’s a double edged sword.  But after my recent revelation in regard to my current mental and emotional fatigue, I’m sticking to my guns and doing my very best to spend this time de-stressing and enjoying myself as much as possible. But that’s all easier said than done.

To do so, I’ve been trying to enjoy my downtime instructing spin classes at my local YMCA, indulging in some fancy meals while traveling, taking a few easy spins around my neighborhood to take in the Fall colors and smells, spending time in the pool playing with HRH, and watching a whole lotta Walking Dead.  So do I feel better? Well, that’s entirely debatable.

However, recently, I was also contacted by Agnes, an Etheric Health Practitioner and Reiki Master (ReHolistically Speaking) who just happens to be the wife of a training peer of mine, who volunteered to spend some time with me realigning the specific energy fields of my Endocrine System.

I know, ‘say what now?’  Hang in there.

Similar to my first massage experience (click HERE), the automatic skeptic in me started asking all the immediate questions: what do I need to wear?  Will there be chanting?  Is she going cast spells?  Will there be magic crystals?  Am I going to be offered the purple Kool-Aid?  Oh, and, yes, the ever-present ‘will I get a boner?’ crossed my mind too.  Hey, it’s an important question.

Thankfully, the answer is a resounding ‘No’ to all the above.

So what is it she’s attempting to do anyway?  It’s not like you have “energy rewiring” being advertised on every street corner it is? Nor is there any real hard information on this practice floating around out there.  You certainly can’t run to Chapters and pick up an ‘Etheric Health for Dummies’.

As I figured out (thanks Google), the Etheric Body gives vitality, health, life and organization to the Physical Body.  Think of it as the subtle level of the Physical Body, so healthy Etheric’s will inevitably lead to a healthy physical body; the two are intertwined in that regard.  Anyway, that still doesn’t explain what it was that Agnes was attempting to do so my inquisitive nature was spilling over with all the usual ‘why’s and ‘what’s.  I am game however to try just about anything once and, ultimately, I am interested to know if these ‘treatments’ will benefit me (if at all) so I took her up on her offer.

As she later explained to me (and after a considerable amount of research on my part), it’s possible that I am suffering from ‘Adrenal Fatigue Syndrome’.

fatiguedmanproppinguphisheadonacouch-653x0_q80_crop-smartI know, what the hell is that?  I had the same question.

Well, as I discovered, Adrenal fatigue is a collection of signs and symptoms that results when the adrenal glands function below the necessary levels. Some might refer to it as ‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome’ (CFS) which I’ve heard of before but I think what I have been experiencing is a bit, well, different.  However, the three main causes for the syndrome include: emotional stress, poor diet, and chronic inflammation of the body, of which, I’m guilty on all accounts. So maybe…

Strictly speaking, Adrenal Fatigue Syndrome is most commonly associated with intense or prolonged stress (yup, that’s definitely me).  As the name suggests, its paramount symptom is fatigue that is not relieved by sleep, yet it is not a readily identifiable entity like measles or a growth on the end of your finger so you’re not likely to hear anyone ever say to you: “Dude, what’s wrong? That looks like Adrenal Fatigue”.  In fact, you look and act relatively normal with adrenal fatigue and not display any obvious signs of physical illness, yet you still live with a general sense of unwellness (yup, me again), tiredness or “gray” feelings. People experiencing adrenal fatigue often have to use coffee, colas and other stimulants to get going in the morning and to prop themselves up during the day. Now, while I don’t necessarily think I ‘need’ extra caffeine every day I do recognize that I have been drinking more coffee in the morning and I can certainly identify with the whole “gray” feeling thing.

This syndrome has been known by many other names throughout the past century or so, such as non-Addison’s hypoadrenia, sub-clinical hypoadrenia, neurasthenia, adrenal neurasthenia, and adrenal apathy.  Whatever you choose to label it as, it apparently affects millions of people in North America and around the world, yet conventional medicine fails to recognize it as a distinct syndrome leading to the misguided belief that any treatment process – Etheric or otherwise – is more viewed as a practice in ‘hocus-pocus’ than it is of any valid scientific remedy.

Adrenal fatigue is produced when your adrenal glands cannot adequately meet the demands of stress – of which, I have a lot.  The adrenal glands, located at the top of your kidneys, mobilize your body’s responses to every kind of stress (whether it’s physical, emotional, or psychological) through hormones (including cortisol) that regulate energy production and storage, immune function, heart rate, muscle tone, and other processes that enable you to cope with the stress by initiating that ‘fight or flight’ response in your body as a way of increasing your pain threshold – a necessary evil for triathletes who constantly push their endurance limitations on a near daily basis; particularly those idiot ones who don’t follow a training plan such as myself.  Whether you have an emotional crisis such as the death of a loved one (sound familiar), a physical crisis such as major surgery, or any type of severe repeated or constant stress in your life (i.e. training), your adrenals have to respond to the stress and maintain homeostasis (the property of any bodily system in which variables are regulated so that internal conditions remain stable and relatively constant).  If their response is inadequate, you are likely to experience some degree of adrenal fatigue.

During adrenal fatigue your adrenal glands function, but not well enough to maintain optimal homeostasis because their output of regulatory hormones has been diminished – usually by over-stimulation.  Over-stimulation of your adrenals can be caused either by a very intense single stress as I mentioned, or by chronic or repeated stresses that have a cumulative effect.   Misdiagnosis is a serious concern since a patient could be suffering instead from a recognized adrenal disorder such as Cushing’s Syndrome (too much cortisol) or Addison’s Disease (too little cortisol, aldosterone and/or sex hormones), both of which can be treated with medication. I’m confident though that I don’t fall into either of these categories.

So what next?

Well, a quick and simple self-evaluation that you may be suffering from Adrenal fatigue might include asking yourself such questions as:

  1. You feel tired for no reason.
  2. You have trouble getting up in the morning, even when you go to bed at a reasonable hour.
  3. You are feeling rundown or overwhelmed.
  4. You have difficulty bouncing back from stress or illness.
  5. You crave salty and sweet snacks.
  6. You feel more awake, alert and energetic after 6PM than you do all day.

I can answer a resounding ‘Yes’ to all of these.  So perhaps these sessions are a step in the right direction.  They certainly aren’t going to hurt any are they?

Now, where I can’t say for certain what Agnes was doing during these sessions specifically as I tended to have my eyes closed and I’m about as close to sleep you can possibly get without completely going under, what I can relate to you is how I felt during and after the sessions.  I think I’ve already successfully documented how I feel now (i.e. before these sessions), however, just in case you’ve forgotten here’s a quick summary: I feel shitty.

But before I get into those results, it might help to try and explain the actual intent of these sessions; Lord knows I needed some help in understanding them myself.  In short here, the aim is to get the adrenals to stop running your body and rewire it “energetically” so that the pituitary gland runs the system as it is normally designed to do.  Likewise, she is working to restore the flow to my body’s energy system.  As it could be now, my adrenals might be permanently stuck in the ‘ON’ position leading to an unhealthy increase in cortisol (see my previous ‘Reset, Recharge, Replan’ post) with all the unfortunate consequences that go along with it (i.e. stress, fatigue, etc.).

So what is this “energy” she’s channeling exactly? Well, think of it this way…everything in the universe is comprised of energy and energy is all around us.  Agnes works with the energy field around the body and senses where it may be blocked or out of balance. In doing this work, she also takes into account the emotional state of the individual, as the emotions we feel in the body are “energy” as well and vibrate at certain frequencies.  Emotions such as anger, sadness, irritability are thicker, more dense vibrations are usually carried in the lower part of the body, making us feel burned out, run down, unmotivated.  Emotions such as happiness, joy, etc., consist of a higher frequency and leave you feeling “lighter”, whereby, you feel more “enlightened”, or peaceful and relaxed.  And who doesn’t like to feel like that? Surely, this is the entire point of a successful recovery period – something I have failed miserably at this year, hence, my plateau in training this year and my feeling the way I do now.  So what I’m really looking for then, is beginning to reconnecting more with those good, good, good, vibrations…

“…good vibrations, Oom bop bop.”

Sorry, couldn’t help myself there.  Anyway, back on track…

Think of it this way, your body is a river through which energy runs from head to toe and that energy is the veritable life force for each individual system that, together, regulate the body allowing it to function healthily.  If something should ever block that natural flow of healthy energy then everything begins to be negatively affected.  During my second session, Agnes reported that she ‘felt’ an overwhelming sense of sadness in my chest represented by a dense vibration which is not surprising seeing as what’s transpired over the past seven months.  So if that overwhelming sadness, or dense vibration, has been blocking the natural flow of positive energy through the rest of my body, then maybe that explains why I have been experiencing so many nagging injuries in my lower limbs lately.  I mean, shit, there’s no real ‘medical’ explanation yet why the soft issue of my right foot continues to ache after a month of relative non-activity, or why my left Achilles tendon is stiff in the morning despite my not having run for some time.  Maybe that part of my body is still laden with thick, unhealthy, negative vibration, or “energy”.  Any removal of dense vibrations or a “rewiring” of my body’s natural flow of positive energy should yield some positive results, right?  Go Agnes.

I mean, why not?

However, don’t go donning all your flowing robes just yet because, I admit to being more of a pragmatic type of person that needs to understand the specifics of what I’m dealing with.  But, sometimes in the absence of certainty and rationality, the irrational might just hold true.  Can you touch or directly detect your body’s ‘energy’ directly? Maybe not (maybe so), but you can definitely feel it so maybe that then becomes your ‘measure’ for improvement.  So the real evidence then that my rational mind might be craving should be based on how I feel as a result of these sessions and not the logistics of the actual session itself.  Follow me?

So the ultimate question then becomes: how do I feel afterwards?

Well, truthfully, after three sessions over a two week period I genuinely feel pretty damn good.  More correctly, I feel more relaxed; more so than I have felt in the past year or so since all the shit started being flung in my direction.  Am I healed?  No, probably not yet.  But in the past two weeks I have noticed a slight improvement in my lingering injuries (and anything is better than nothing), some improvement in my overall mood and, hell, even a sense of ‘calm’ that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time represented in the fact that I am sleeping much better these days.  Am I perfect?  Shit, no.  But I do believe I am getting back to feeling somewhat normal again and that definitely weighs very favorably in my conscious mind so, yeah, pass the flowing robes; there might just be something to this whole Etheric’s thing.

I am getting convinced now that there is more to this body then simply the muscle, bone and various tissues that make it up – it’s just not that black and white.  And my failure to initially recognize that just might – in itself – be the biggest mistake I’ve made all year; a mistake I don’t care to repeat thank you very much.  Any if you don’t learn from your mistakes and make efforts to correct them through whatever means necessary, well, I think that’s pretty sad – and I’m tired of being sad. So any effort, practice, or what have you, that helps me ultimately heal my mind, body and spirit, is gratefully appreciated and very welcome and maybe this needs to be a part of my regular recovery process.

Pass the Kool-Aid.

I’m kind of putting the cart before the horse with this post but my review of the Incredoubleman Triathlon Weekend is still on hold pending pictures, so I’m plowing forward onto other things that are currently pressing on my mind.

Namely, me.

Of course.

So to begin with, please accept this disclaimer that this is going to be a very different kind of post.  Think of it as my having a real honest moment with myself.  In reality, this might just be the most important blog post I’ve made to date.

When I started this blog in what seems like eons ago, I really had no idea how it would develop (if at all) and I am proud of the journey that I’ve made and documented in these online pages since that time. I was a very different person then and nearly a decade after I made that initial commitment to change my life for the better; I’ve accomplished some really incredible things. Things I never would have deemed possible back then; superhuman almost. Of course, I know now that that these things weren’t really superhuman – nor am I for that matter – and ordinary people do incredible things all the time but, back then, they would have most definitely seemed superhuman considering the shape I was in.

Since then, the most common question I get asked is ‘why do you do it?’  Why triathlon?  Why did I take up a sport so physically and mentally demanding?  What I usually tell these people is “because I’m bat shit crazy”, and while that might be partially true it doesn’t really paint the whole picture and I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this particular question lately.  And the answers I come up with aren’t always positive.

Sure there’s the whole ‘challenge’ and all that, but there’s a darker side too.  Something I’m only now coming to fully realize. Maybe why the reason this is all coming to light only now is that I’m on the cusp of surviving, maybe, the most difficult year of my short and unimpressive life.  In fact, although I haven’t been doing the same volume of training in the year (2012) leading up to Ironman Wales (and for a reminder on how that turned out afterwards – click HERE), this year has been vastly more difficult physically, mentally and definitely more emotionally. To that point, I have recently lost both my parents this year in a span of five short months (HERE  and HERE) leaving me feeling rather like I’ve been orphaned and through it all…I swam, biked and ran – a lot.  Usually without any real plan or focus but more for the opportunity to just get out and deal with it.  This year was supposed to be my big return to being ‘competitively strong’, the whole ‘We Can Rebuild Him’ strategy, and in that regard I feel like I’ve failed miserably; albeit for reasons that were mostly beyond my own control.

Don’t get me wrong, I recognize that I’ve done some incredibly awesome things this year that pushed my personal boundaries of endurance and conditioning even further.  As part of this ‘tough guy’ training commitment I completed a 10k Swim for Strong Kids, set a new personal best for the 30k distance at Around the Bay and I recently completed back-to-back triathlons at the Incredoubleman Triathlon (update:  click HERE). But there was one important thing missing: DISCIPLINE.  The discipline of a well-crafted training plan and as a result, it’s left me feeling rather fragile…physically, mentally and emotionally.  But having said that, I’ve also learned something very important about myself in that I am a bit of a masochist when it comes to dealing with my emotions and personal well-being.

Before I went down this whole healthy living-triathlon path, I dealt with pain and sadness another way: I ATE.  I ate a lot and it was a completely self-destructive way of dealing with things.  But now that I’ve hopped on the ‘healthy living’ bandwagon, things really haven’t changed, I just have a different way of dealing with stress: TRAINING.  I believed it was a healthier way to deal with my emotions when things got rough; or one might have thought anyway.  But maybe that’s entirely debatable.

Instead of taking the time out I may have needed to cope and heal, I did what I’ve always done…I put my head down and ran directly into the storm.  Great in triathlon maybe, but not so great in life.  I did it when my Nana passed away. Within minutes of stepping out of the funeral home I put on my running shoes, pointed myself directly towards the darkest most menacing cloud on the horizon and ran directly into it. I thought it would be in some way cathartic and maybe I mistakenly thought that it was, but four years later I’m beginning to doubt that.  When my mother passed away this past January, I did the same thing: I ran…and I swam.  A lot.  I later used the experience to fuel my Around the Bay PB and later my 10k swim in the pool.  Was I following a plan?  No.  I was just out to punish myself through suffering.

Hell, I remember when “suffering” meant going 24 hours without a donut!  What happened to me?

When my dad passed away this past June, I focused into preparing for the Incredoubleman weekend.  And although I survived it and the results were favorable (they’re coming – be patient), I know I wasn’t performing anywhere near my potential.  Again, did I follow a plan to prepare for it?  No. I just went out and suffered as I always did.  The tipping point should have been when I completely tanked my 10k run at the Peachbud in July.  I felt like ass and spent most of the time being lapped.  But did I pay attention?  Shit no.  I put my head down and pushed myself into training even harder.

I had literally convinced myself that what I was doing was for the purpose of honoring my parents by doing something that would have made them both proud (and I believe they were).  But it came at a significant cost: cortisol.

Bucket loads of cortisol.

What is cortisol you ask?  Cortisol is a natural steroid hormone created by the body, more specifically a glucocorticoid, produced by the zona fasciculata of the adrenal cortex.  What does that mean exactly?  It’s not really important.  All you need to know is that it is released by the body in response to stress (both mental and physical) and a low level of blood glucose (poor diet). Its primary functions are to increase blood sugar through a process known as ‘gluconeogenesis’, suppress the immune system, and aid the metabolism of fat, protein, and carbohydrate.  In fact, elevated cortisol levels lead to a perpetual catabolic state where muscle is broken down and fat is stored.  That would definitely explain my growing waistline despite all the effort I’ve been making to get rid of it.  Moreover, cortisol is released in response to stress (something I know a little about), sparing available glucose for the brain, generating new energy from stored reserves, and diverting energy from lower-priority activities (such as the immune system) in order to survive immediate threats or prepare for exertion…see the problem here?  The real issue is that prolonged cortisol secretion (which may be due to chronic stress – nod nod wink wink) results in significant physiological changes; i.e. my body’s inability to cope with the amount of physical stress I am regularly placing on it in the absence of a well-structured training plan for the sole purpose of suffering.

So here I am three weeks after my last competition and my left Achilles is tender, my legs are all but refusing to wake up and the muscles on the sole of my right foot continue to ache and I just generally feel like ass.

All. The. Time.

Furthermore, I feel like I could break out into a flood tears at any moment.  Will I?  Probably not (okay, maybe).  Likewise, I’ve become more distant from the people who continue to love and support me; namely my family (which is totally unacceptable).  And what are my instincts tell me to do?  Well, despite being in what is supposed to be my ‘recovery period’ I have this need to immediately launch myself back into the one thing that’s been the common denominator through it all: suffering.  Go run…go swim…go…do…something.  Suffer!

Not smart.

>>insert bang head emoticon here<<

Except this time, after a serious ‘tete-a-tete’ yesterday afternoon with my councilor-slash-athletic therapist Dr. Kristin Burr at Legacy Health & Performance (LOVE THOSE GUYS!), I’m going to try and do things entirely differently.  I’m going to better listen to my body the way I know I should have been all along and make the right decisions going forward, hence, this complete ‘Come to Jesus’ moment in that I’m not continuing down the same path I always have.

So what should be the plan going forward?  I still want to compete and get back to being ‘competitively hard’ this year but I know now that something has to change in my approach to enable that all to happen successfully.  Specifically, I need a better plan; time to reassess my goals for 2015, restrategize and put me back on track to effectively accomplishing them.

  1. Play – That’s right.  Play.  Have fun for a change.  Maybe ride my bike with HRH, go exploring on Snowflake, go for short walks with Kelly now that the autumn colors are here, take in a yoga class, maybe do some light weights when the mood takes me; you know, just take it easy.  No ‘suffering’.
  1. Instructing.  In regard to ‘Play’, I have just successfully received my spin instructor’s certification through the YMCA (yay me!) and I am starting teaching now on Monday nights at 6:30pm and I love it.  The truth is – and I hope I’m not giving too much away here – but I don’t really get a ‘workout’ during these classes so much as I’m leading others through theirs; so I’m only suffering vicariously through them.  Perfect, right?  It’s my goal then to work with these regular participants over the winter months to build their own bike strength and endurance and achieve their own goals; all set to a groovy soundtrack (click HERE  for my playlists).
  1. Diet. In recent months, my lack of wanting to do anything else besides suffer has meant that my “healthy diet” has largely subsisted of meatball subs from Subway; quick and easy.  No more.  Kelly and I have made a pact to get back on the healthy eating bandwagon and make a serious bid to lose some healthy weight and that largely means going back to being gluten free.  I’m not setting any specific weight goals, just on maintaining a healthy intake of the rights foods while minimizing the amount of snacks.

That’s it.  That’s my whole philosophy:  “keep it simple stupid”.

That’s the plan anyway, to keep things simple and fun to allow my body the time it needs to reset, recharge and flush that cortisol 100% out of my system prior to getting back on the path to becoming awesome.

What else is there to say?

Sometimes training is like gambling.  You have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em; know when to walk away and know when to run.  Or that’s what some grey beard with gravy stains in his Rhinestone pants would have me believe anyway.  Today I had just such a mental dilemma with in the pool; should I stay or should I go?

You see, both my girls are currently down with the sickness.  There has been this Dino bug going around lately to which both that Kelly and HRH have unfortunately succumb.  Me?  I keep on keeping on.  I’m a big tough triathlete, right?  I just take my morning Vitamin C, continue to add cumin to my morning omelets, and suck back as much OJ as one can reasonably tolerate and as such, and stick to the training plan, or what little plan I have managed to cobble together anyway.  I have daily runs drills to do, core building to maintain, hydration lab testing to endure (more to come), a new Masters spin class I just started weekly and, holy shitballs, I have a lot going on so I need to keep going.  Even though I might experience the odd tickle in the back of my throat, perhaps a little cough here and there, or a sniff every now and again, I just keep plowing forward.  But today it became painfully aware that I am, in fact, also down with the sickness.  Frig!  I guess, like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun.

So what started out as a planned 2.75k workout from my ‘Swim Speed’ program, eventually turned into the ‘Total Aquatic Shit Show’ not 30 seconds after entering the water as my mental attitude went from ‘I feel great!’, to ‘Okay, this feels like work…’, to ‘Holy shit!  Where’s my pull buoy!”  All that in just the warm up; yeah, definitely NOT winning!

I definitely wasn’t feeling the jazz, or the funk, or the cheddar, or the vibe, or whatever colorful metaphor you wish to substitute for your motivation to train.  Even the old ladies were threatening to lap me.  So after 1.75k worth of easy drills, I pulled the plug completely and came home instead with my flippers between my legs.

It’s a hard thing to be able to listen to your body and simply say ‘No’ when it’s most appropriate to do so.  I have always struggled with this.  Seriously, when the breathing isn’t there, I have no cardio, and despite the lack luster pace I might be maintaining, my heart rate is soaring like a jack rabbit on crack, all signs are pointing to ‘Quit’, so what’s the point in continuing?  I’m still in the early phases of off-season base training so there is no real need to be hammering out the kilometers regardless of how I feel.  All that’s going to accomplish is make things worse and I’m fed up with going backwards.  Right now, my body seems to be telling me to relax, and enjoy the approaching holidays (as well as the subsequent turkey coma afterwards), so I think I will.  No apologies, no excuses, just lots of mucus’s (I’m a poet and don’t even know it).

Fortunately, tomorrow also makes for the perfect ‘Rest Day’ as the Ironman World Championships are on and I simply have to see how much publicity Gordon Ramsay manages to sponge up, so maybe tomorrow will also be declared as ‘strategic’ recovery day as well.  Then Sunday is Thanksgiving and Monday is still free and, shit, I already can see where this weekend will be a complete loss to at least two of the seven deadly sins; gluttony and sloth.  They do say ‘feed a cold, starve a flu’, right?  And I definitely have a cold.  So who am I to buck popular convention?

If that’s what the doctor ordered, then that’s what the doctor ordered.  I’m not going to argue this time.  I think I might just start to enjoy this whole ‘getting sick’ thing, well, for a few hours anyway.  But for the time being, I’m going to do the smart thing by tapping out and taking a wee break.  Of course, this will also inevitably mean spending an insane amount of time watching children’s television all cuddled up with the small drippy child person we live with but, hey, things could definitely be worse.