Weather Woes and Race Preparedness

Yesterday's drive on the highway

March in Cleveland is a very trying thing for an endurance athlete. And I know "everyone" is complaining about the winter blahs right about now, especially in the midwest, but this is one of those years when March - the "spring" month - has been especially bad for us runners/bikers/swimmers with weekly nine-to-five jobs. The weekday weather has been great, but the weekends (Friday through Sunday) have been slammed with cold, snow and, at times, blizzard conditions. And if it's not snowing, it's 32 degrees and raining.

Normally, the unpredictable March weather wouldn't be a problem, as I usually start my really long stuff in April or May. But this year, in my infinite disaster-magnet wisdom, I registered for an Ironman - Ironman St. George - the first week of May. I swear I was being completely rational when I hit that "submit" button last July. But it was warm and sunny. My thoughts were: "No problem! I can get outside in March for my long rides." What was I thinking? How could I forget the year we had three blizzards in three successive March weekends? (I remember it because my running friends were out in horizontal snow training for spring marathons.)

In my defense, this winter I've tackled my indoor training with enthusiasm and without going mad. I've maintained my sanity through several five-hour trainer rides and weeks straight of indoor workouts. But I'm now at the point where one long run (2:30+) on the treadmill will surely push me over the edge. And for more than just mental reasons. After an nine-miler on the treadmill at my fitness center three days ago - my first time back on the 'mill since the great treadmill disaster of 2011 - I realized that, unlike the bike trainer, the treadmill compromises my form. My stride is shortened and my hamstrings were still screaming two days later (note: stumbling stiff-legged down the road on slush and ice yesterday was not the smartest thing to do but luckily didn't end in disaster).

This weekend in the snow and slush, I have to tackle a long run and a long brick. I can't keep putting them off hoping for "better weather." With eight weeks to Ironman, it's do or die time. And although my training volume is decent, my race-specific workouts have been severely lacking.

Which brings me to my other point in this blog. This spring is the first time I'm going into an Ironman without any race experience in prior months. My last triathlon was in November and I've only run a marathon since. I feel completely unprepared for racing, and, unfortunately, I can't get to a race in the next two months due to limited funds and the inability to take any vacation time. The only thing I will do is a race "simulation" to test my abilities and nutrition. But I do feel like I'll be going into St. George cold (no pun intended).

All I can say is, like the way we deal with the weather in Cleveland, I'm going to make the best of it.

Treadmill Disaster: A Day in the Life

That doesn't look too bad:
when you fall on a treadmill, the
welt resembles the belt pattern.

I've grown to accept my lot as the Disaster Magnet. It's made me a little more careful over the years and even more superstitious than most. Yes, I do avoid walking under ladders, and I take extra precautions on Friday the 13th. But, as I found out yesterday, sometimes, even when I make a concerted effort to avoid disaster, it will find me. It seeks me out. And I must be lacking in proper disasters as of late, because I was obviously due for a big one.

The big one started with the weather. Two weeks ago, I had my yearly reminder of what happens on black ice. Luckily (for my body but not for my neighbor's yard), it happened in the car. I pulled out of my driveway, turned the wheel left but kept going straight... straight into the snowbank in my neighbor's yard. Note to self: ice is dangerous. Especially the ice you can't see.

Every winter, I slip at least once on black ice. I have constant reminders of these incidents: running tights with holes in them and scars on my knees. In 2008, I slipped once while running and once while NOT running. I was on a photography assignment at work when I slipped on ice and fell right smack on my camera lens (of all things) -- and broke a rib. And you question why they call me the Disaster Magnet?

So yesterday, I decided to be smart after finding out the weather forecast was rain/snow and temperatures around freezing. That usually spells I-C-E. And for those judging, I'm not a wimp! If it were dry and 30 degrees, I would definitely run outside. But why tempt disaster? I saved my morning run for an evening workout on the treadmill. I was so proud of myself. I even bragged about my decision on Facebook. Yes, I set up THE perfect recipe for disaster.

I should have known better -- pride usually goes before a fall. And I'm the Disaster Magnet. I walked (well, ran) RIGHT into that pitfall. And it's no coincidence to see the word "fall" twice.

The last time I fell on a treadmill was seven years ago in a hotel in Chicago in January. It was the first time I attempted to run with music, and I foolishly placed my iPod on a rack in front of me with the headphone cable running in front. Almost immediately, I crossed my arms in front of my body, hit the wire and sent the iPod flying. It landed on the side of the treadmill and I stopped to pick it up -- ON THE MOVING BELT. I ended up crumpled against the wall of the workout room (this was not a big place). Even though I was alone, I immediately looked around, more concerned with how silly I looked than if I was hurt.

Here comes the stupid part. I got up, put the iPod right back on the rack in front of me and told myself I would REMEMBER it was there and not cross my arms in front of my body again. But what happened? Just like great comedy, I did the exact same thing. Again. I sent the iPod flying... AND, I stopped to pick it up. AGAIN. ON THE MOVING BELT.

Crumpled against the wall a second time was enough to drive the lesson home. My iPod is now firmly attached to my body when I run on any treadmill. I learned to love the treadmill, with music, and I never had another disaster. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I learned what it's like to fall off a treadmill, not alone in the dark, but in the presence of a gym full of people. And it's not even a GOOD story. I can't say I was ogling some hot guy or challenging myself to run faster. My mind wandered, I stepped off the belt and I never recovered. After a stumble and fall that seemed to last forever, I was ejected off the back of the treadmill and into the elliptical machine behind me.

Ouch. That hurt. The 90-something-year-old guy on the eliptical machine never missed a stride: "are you ok? maybe you should sit down for a minute."

This was NOT happening. I did NOT just get told to take it easy by some ancient dude on an elliptical machine.

I looked at the guy next to him: "Did you see it happen?" His answer: "Oh yeah, I saw the whole thing [insert attempt not to chuckle]." (His expression reminded me of Jerry Seinfeld trying to keep a straight face when "Kramer" did something completely hilarious on their TV show.) I might mention he was ALSO on an elliptical machine.

OUCH. That hurt more than the injuries.

I got right back on my treadmill. The guy - walking - on the treadmill next to me said: "I've heard that people fall off these things, but I never actually saw someone do it!"

OUCH! Once more. I am NOW the idiot in this guy's hilarious story that starts with: "yeah, I saw someone fall off a treadmill once."

They even sent a gym staff member to keep an eye on me while I started back at my workout. He stayed there. For a WHILE. I wasn't giving in. I turned the treadmill up (I was going to continue my mile repeats). It was then I realized... heck, I am in LOT more pain than I thought. But I finished my workout in defiance.

And now my biggest problem is figuring out what part of my body actually NEEDS ICE. The left side or the right side. Or my wrist. Welcome to my world. It's one of irony. And just another typical day in the life of the Disaster Magnet.

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Go Running

Week 29 on my Ironman training schedule is also the first week of January -- in Cleveland, Ohio. Until this week I actually thought we might have a mild winter. But as they say in my business: none such animal!

It's a good thing I'm using my first few weeks of Ironman prep work to increase my number of weekly bike rides because getting out to run in the current weather is extremely frustrating. My workout time is compromised because of the time it takes to drive anywhere in the unrelenting ice and snow this week. And to complicate matters, my husband left town on a business trip, making me responsible for clearing the driveway snow (and it snowed over three inches every day this week).

Then, we've also had unrelenting temperatures in the teens and low 20s which, for me, makes any kind of outdoor exercise -- running, shoveling, making snow angels -- more exhausting. And I worry that it will only get worse with age (extra energy spent keeping warm). But I CAN say that, this year, I've relinquished my membership card to the wimp club by running outside if the temperature is 10 degrees F or above (last year it had to be 20F before I would venture out). And not snowing. Well, it can snow a LITTLE.

But with a nickname like Diaster Magnet, I am well indoctrinated to the hazards of running -- or walking -- on ice and snow. In February 2008, about two weeks after declaring it my triathlon "comeback year," I slipped on ice at work and landed on the lens of my digital SLR. I broke a back rib and sidelined my so-called "comeback" for several months. In the winter of 2009, my neighborhood sidewalks provided a platform for several more falls, complete with bloody gashes (and for the life of me, I still cannot figure out how landing on pavement can cut right through my running tights without any damage to the material). I was limping until spring.

So, why do I insist on running outside when I have a nice indoor track and treadmills at my local recreation center? I don't. But despite outdoor running perils, indoor running can be equally painful. Thus, I present my list of ten things to beware of when winter running, both inside and outside:

1. slipping on ice that isn't there (patches known as "black ice," these can also occur on non-black pavement)
2. dropping your iPod while on the treadmill, stopping to pick it up and getting launched off the back onto your butt or into a wall (in effect, paying the "stupid tax" -- embarrassingly, I did it twice during the same workout)
3. getting pelted by snow -- or ice -- in the eyes (do you know that annoying wet drizzle that you hate to run in? well this is the same thing except it's colder -- and it's in your EYES)
4. having to get up even earlier to run because your work commute time has more than doubled (this usually lasts for the first month of winter in Cleveland, then everyone either re-learns how to drive in it or just doesn't care anymore)
5. (corollary to number 4) having to dive into a snow bank because drivers only look out for SNOW when driving in the snow
6. fighting the gym rules to keep your treadmill for more than a 20-minute workout (for us OCD runners, 20 minutes barely constitutes a warm-up)
7. being reminded there are leg muscles that control side-to-side motion (also known as the "tennis syndrome," runners are rarely aware these muscles exist)
8. wearing out one hip joint while running in circles on a track that's too small for matchbox cars to drive comfortably on (and might I mention that my hips also seem to have gotten more ornery with age)
9. finding protection for your face because wearing those stupid masks makes it impossible to breathe (and, at my age, I can add: learning your skin does NOT bounce back every year)
10. constantly whacking my knuckles and hands on the treadmill console because it's just NOT natural

Happy winter running everyone, and beware the perils. I've not even begun my swimming this year, but I'm not worried -- I'm getting enough upper body training shoveling snow. Accumulation totals should be up to two feet by tomorrow.