Pincushion me!

The three letters that convinced me to try PRP. 
On the right is my MRI.  On the left top is my Boston acceptance. 
On the lower left is a totally unexpected check from
the bank that held the mortgage on my recently sold home.

I've been fighting multiple injuries over the last few months, including a) a combination of tendonitis/plantar fasciitis/ligament issues on my right foot, and b) a low grade tear in my left hamstring tendon at the attachment.  Yesterday, I had my first treatment with PRP to address these issues.

PRP stands for Platelet Rich Plasma.  You extract normal blood from someone, process it in a centrifuge to concentrate the platelets, then reinject it at injury sites.  The theory behind it is that the increased platelet concentration stimulates a healing process that is faster and/or more complete than what your body is doing on its own.  It's been used all in sort of locations (joints, muscles, tendons) with the greatest effectiveness noted in cases of tendonosis and/or ligament damage.

At least that's the theory.  In humans, there's just not that much evidence, especially from large scale studies.  Just lots of anecdotal experience.  And as for how it works?  Well, no one's quite sure about that either.

I wasn't too worried about not knowing how it works - that holds for lots of proven treatments, including aspirin.  I was more concerned about the lack of large scale studies that supported its use.  However, the lack of evidence may be linked in part to the lack of standardization for the PRP process.  Not all PRP is the same - there's a wide variance in a) platelet concentration, b) what else is taken out of the blood (red blood cells?  white blood cells?), and c) the recovery process.

Of course, that begs the question: how do you know you're getting the best process?  Every practitioner will tell you that their process is superior to others, and there's not much research comparing the different methods.  In the end, I decided to take comfort that I was going to a doctor that effectively used PRP to treat my same injury in another athlete.

***

PRP usually involves a single appointment per injection - you show up and have your blood drawn.  Then you wait about 15 minutes while they process it in their centrifuge, and then get the injection.  Whole thing should take an hour or less.

In my case, we decided to do it a bit differently, for a few reasons.  For one thing, I'm a very difficult blood draw - I have Raynauds, low blood pressure, a low resting heart rate, and veins that are deep, narrow, move around, and collapse.  It made sense in my case to schedule a blood draw the day before, to ensure that we had plenty of time to get what we needed, and also so that I could come back the next day if we couldn't get enough.

Doctor Wagner also wanted to be absolutely sure that he was treating the correct area for the hamstring.  So he proposed that I set up a diagnostic appointment where I'd run some, then get a shot of lidocaine (short duration local anesthetic) in my tendon, and then run some more, keeping track of how I felt on each run.  Then I'd report back to him when I came back in for the PRP.

So, we scheduled three appointments:

• Thursday at noon: get blood drawn
• Friday morning - run for about 20-25 minutes, get a shot in butt at 6:45 am, run some more.
• Friday afternoon - PRP.

And then, of course, rest for the weekend.

***

The blood draw on Thursday went as I expected, of course.   Poorly.

I went in right at noon; an hour and seven sticks later, we had about 3/4ths of the blood needed.

The residue from
Thursday's bloodless draw

At this point I was told I had my choice of a) going with a mix of PRP and prolotherapy or b) coming back at 6:00 am on Friday morning to take a second try at the blood draw.  I chose the second.  Dr. Wagner had recommended PRP rather than prolotherapy - I was going to get PRP.

Fortunately, when I returned at 6 the next morning, the blood was flowing more freely (it was ridiculously warm outside, which I think helped).  With two more sticks (9 sticks total so far), we had enough blood, and I was dismissed to go run laps of the office park in the dark.

Laps done, I returned for two ultrasound-guided shots into my hamstring (we're up to 11 jabs), and then did some more running before returning home to work for the morning.  The hamstring was improved, though still weak and tight.  That same afternoon, I returned for the grand finale.

***

During my previous visits to this doctor, I had filled out normal forms - insurance information, HIPAA disclosures, diagram of where I hurt, etc.  But now I had new ones to fill out - they basically fell into two categories - those that said VERY CLEARLY that this was an experimental procedure and not part of the standard process of care, and those that said EVEN MORE CLEARLY that insurance would not cover this procedure and that I was responsible for the cost in full.  Then they collected my payment before I went back.

The magic cart.

When I returned to the examination room, I was greeted by the physician assistant and a cart with syringes.  She showed me the bag that my syringes had been provided in, to demonstrate that it was my name on the bag,  and  then I got up on the table.

Dr. Wagner walked in, and after some pleasantries and an update on my morning run, he pulled the cart over.

"My apologies in advance.  I'm afraid this is going to hurt."

I've heard that before from doctors, and usually dismiss it.  The normal population's pain tolerance isn't the same as a runner's, and many times I've gotten this warning and the procedure itself has been nothing.  But something about his tone (and knowing that he had done PRP on a lot of athletes) told me this was different.

Oh well.  Needed to be done.

And so we began.  And yes, it wasn't pleasant.  For each place I got injected (the ligaments on the outside of my right ankle, my right plantar fascia, and my left hamstring at the insertion onto the pelvis) he first applied two-three shots of an activator.  Then the PRP itself as 2-3 ultrasound-guided injections in the area - it wasn't the shot itself that hurt as much as the extended injection of the fluid, which made each location feel like it was "too full."

[I lost count of injections at this point.  I'm pretty sure I ended up with 6 injections of PRP - 4 in the foot and 2 in the hamstring tendon.  Plus multiple activator shots.  Combine these with the preceding 11 jabs, and I'm gonna put myself at 20-25 needle pokes over a bit more than 24 hours.  It's a truly wonderful thing that I'm not trypanophobic]

Since people are always curious as to just how much it hurt, I'll express it this way.  In terms of pain ranking, I've had the following at various points: deep tissue massage, cross-frictional massage, dry needling, Graston technique, ART, cortisone shot, nerve conduction study.  I've also raced both mile races and a marathon, and have broken bones.

I want to be here.  I'm not.

I'd rank the PRP above most of these.  It definitely hurt more than a cortisone shot, ART, Graston, or dry needling (or marathons and mile races).  I'd rank it slightly less painful than cross-frictional massage on an inflamed tendon.  It's probably about equivalent to a masseuse's use of his elbow on a really deep muscle knot, but imagine that the pain continues on, and even increases, after he's done. 

So yeah. not pleasant.  But it hurt less than missing the Sunday long run.

***

Then I was done, and Brian carted me home, where I've been ever since.  Tips for others that get PRP, based on my experience:

My foot apres-PRP. 
No, I didn't take any ass shots.

1) Don't plan on driving yourself home afterwards, even if you're not getting work done on your right foot.  You'll be pretty sore.  Sore enough to distract you from concentrating on the road.

2) It's a pretty good idea to plan on being home (and couch) bound for a day or two. You'll be sore, and you're also supposed to be resting.  Don't plan on going back to work the same day.  Don't plan on coming home and catching up on your housecleaning or laundry.  I stocked up before hand on groceries, reading materials, and plans for internet use, and I'm glad I did.

3) I do wish I had brought Tylenol with me to the appointment, so I could have taken it right away.  I won't make that mistake again.

As for the recovery?  It seems that everyone that gets PRP gets different advice here, which I think ties back to the fact that there is no set standard for how to manage it.  In my case, in addition to the standard advice to avoid NSAIDS for at least a week, I was told 24-48 hours of just rest.  After that, I can return to activity by starting off with swimming with a pull buoy.  After that, I can shift to swimming, then to weightbearing activity and rehab exercises, and then to running, letting discomfort be my guide. 

Dr. Wagner explained that there were two reactions that occurred from the PRP.  The first is an immune reaction that causes the pain and swelling.  That's at its worst for the first several hours before trailing off - the total duration of this reaction is about 7-10 days.

Separately, there's a stimulus to the body's healing process.  That is no by means instant - it starts slowly and ramps up gradually over time (and time is weeks and months).  PRP is NOT an instant fix or a way to get back to running workouts within the next week.  It IS a way to hopefully shorten the healing time for tendons and ligaments substantially, increasing my chances of starting a marathon training cycle after the new year.

Whether it works for me?  We'll see.  In the meantime I'll be parked on the couch on my side, watching streaming horse show and the NYC marathon.

Giving it a shot.

So there I was, lying on my side, shorts hiked up.

"OMG yes.  That is exactly the spot!"  It hurt some, but also felt really good, like an itch had finally been scratched.....


Um.... let's back up some.  And reset the scenario to about an hour beforehand.

***

Or maybe even longer than that.  Years even.  Even before I became a runner, my left leg's always been a bit odd.  No real pain, other than some minor muscle soreness that moves around, but a bit weaker and a lot less flexible.

[Memories surge back of riding horses in my early twenties, and being yelled at because my rides consistently bulged their left shoulders.]

It improves when I run more mileage and/or do more yoga, and goes backwards with rest, throwing my stride a bit off.  If I really want to make myself one sided?  Just take a week off, and include a long ride in a car to boot.  That gets the leg to lock up, plus a fascinating bit of simultaneous cramping in left foot and left butt cheek.   Then it's really fun watching me try (and fail) to run straight.

Like I said, my left leg's weird. It's not a disc issue.  The cause is an angry piriformis muscle deep in my butt that presses on my sciatic nerve, resulting in a bit of weakness and cramping. Over the years I've tried nearly all the tricks and seen all the experts.  Tennis ball or lacrosse ball on the left buttock - daily.  Pigeon pose or figure 4 stretch? Got it down.  I know all the glute activation exercises, and do them faithfully.  And yes, I'm an old hand at deep tissue massage, ART, and those modalities.  They all help a little, but the secret sauce has consistently been maintaining a high level of activity. (and trying to avoid long car rides)

[People always ask me: but are you really consistent with your exercises?   Seriously?  I'm moderately OCD and neurotic: some people can't stop washing their hands; I can't stop side planking.  Or Googling.]

So, I've just dealt with it.  Heck, I run fairly decently with it - I even ran a marathon with my left leg locked up.  And it's not like it ever really hurts.    But the fact that it flares with rest creates a weird one-legged chicken and egg situation.  Any time I take more than a day or two off, the leg gets weaker and crampy.  Then, when I start running again, my gait is off and I end up with some random tweak somewhere that has to be babied.  Once I get back up to my normal activity level and hold it for a while, I'm good to go.  But getting there is a struggle, as I address one compensatory injury after another.


That's been the cycle I've been in recently.  I feel run down or have a tight muscle, so I take a few days off.  As soon as the tight muscle feels better, I come back, but the left leg flares and my gait's off, so something else goes.

I had decided just to go for two weeks of easy mileage to break the cycle, and then I stopped in to see my orthopedist for a follow-up on this issue.  Who proposed a cortisone shot in my piriformis, followed by 4-7 days no running.  I could try this now (as in RIGHT NOW), or I could continue to manage it.

Of course, that meant my planned two weeks no workouts would be extended to three - 4-7 days no running (and I'm erring towards the 7) followed by the easy mileage ramp-up.  *sigh*.  Plus the whole big needle in the rear thing.

I've also never been a fan of cortisone shots.  I think they're often used to hide pain so that someone can get back to running quickly without addressing the underlying issue.  Additionally, I've heard a lot of about the risks of  them weakening tendons and fascia - I'd always rejected them out of hand for my plantar fascitis issues.

But, I decided this was slightly different.  I wasn't getting the shot to kill pain so I could return to workouts and races faster, but rather to knock out an underlying problem (the pressure and damage to the nerve by my piriformis), while accepting that getting the shot would keep me out longer.  And I was also getting it in a muscle, rather than slower healing tendon/fascia - hopefully that was a difference too.

Maybe I'm correct, maybe I'm rationalizing.  In any event, I hopped up on the table and hiked my shorts like the plaid skirted private girls school student I once was.  A bit of numbing spray, and then the big POKE.   Which was simultaneously uncomfortable and really satisfying.

Imagine the biggest muscle knot you've ever had.   The one that no professional or massage tool has ever quite been able to get.  Now imagine it being pierced by a needle and releasing.

Oh yeah, that felt good. 

It's quite possible I am the first person ever to enjoy a cortisone shot.

So, hopped off the table, thanked the good doctor for ramming a big metal thing up my rear, and drove home on a numb left leg.  That was Tuesday afternoon.  It stayed numb for another 24 hours, and then eased up.  Now I just have a lingering mild soreness from the shot, plus a lingering chlorine spell from the pool, where I'm sentenced to pool-running and swimming for the next few days.

It's still too early to tell how much good the shot did, though I'm already noting a nice bit of increased mobility in that hip.  I guess the next days and weeks and months will tell.  If it didn't work, then I'll just return to the way I've always managed it.  But, if I was going to give this a try, now was the time.  It's late summer, and my goal races are still far away.

Heck, it was worth a shot.

Padding the truth.

Running's always made me like my body. 

Most fast runners tend to be on the shorter side, and my stubby legs, though a deficit in horse riding, give me an efficient stride with a high turnover.  I have solid thighs that do a great job of stabilizing and propelling.  Ditto for my rear.  And though some people try to claim that "real women have curves," I know that my "boyish figure" with its narrow hips is girlish too.  Fast and girlish.

And then there's my chest.  

In middle school, I waited for the a-cups to blossom.  They never did.  And that was sad.  But years later, when I heard repeatedly about other runners' struggles with back pain and bounce and their quests for wired and strapped contraptions, I realized I had been spared.

I'm just aerodynamic.  And structurally sound.  No need for external support. 

So I was happy.  Running offered all sorts of clothes like stretchy tops and sports bras and split shorts, all of which fit me and were comfortable and functional, and came in plain colors or simple geometric designs (with a lot of black).  I'm a simple dresser (and I really like black).  Heck, the underwear was even included in the shorts, so you didn't have to wear it separately.  Brilliant!

***

People run dressed like this?

But then, there was a shift in running culture.  First came the fancy pricy clothes - stuff with all sorts of extra straps and flowers and sparkles that I really didn't get the need for.   And the running skirts - crazy things with waves of silly fabric that added resistance.

I'm not into this stuff, and don't get it.  But I'm fascinated by the phenomenon, and the people who buy this stuff.  Plus I like expo shopping.  And that was how I ended up browsing the "Running Skirts" booth at a race expo last fall. 

I drifted over, full of humor tinged with a slight bit of scorn, and saw, behind the brand reps (all coordinated like dolls) the sports bras.  Padded sports bras.  Supposedly for "modesty" (seriously, there's nothing "modest" about this much padding).  Amplifying that which I was so happy to be without.

I bought two of them. 

In case you're wondering what they look like. 
(I bought a third later)

By way of explanation/justification/excuse, I really liked the pattern on both of them.  And I tried them on, and they were an absolutely perfect fit.  And the price was right.  So I swallowed my own hypocrisy and let the mannequin in matching skirt, top, long socks, and armwarmers swipe my card.

***

Gloves, inhaler, and
two gels in this bra.

I wore one of the bras a few days later.  And...it just didn't feel quite right.  Like I had changed the nose of my aircraft.  It was comfortable, and yet not. 

And padding meant less space to store stuff in the sports bra, which is really the true purpose of that item of apparel.

The bras drifted to the back of my drawer.  Until last week, when I wore one on my easy Saturday run (I really need to do laundry).  I was running around DC, and stopped by the local track to do drills, only find the normal entrance completely blocked by construction.

I asked one of the workers how I could get onto the track.  He started to tell me that I needed to walk around the other side.  And then looked up.  And told me I could just step through the construction site and duck around that gate.  He even cleared some stuff out of my way.  Yay.  Easy.

I didn't make the connection.

Post drills, I was jogging down 9th St.  I came upon another construction site blocking the sidewalk, and started to mentally map out how I'd dodge the various workers.  When suddenly, they looked up, and parted, allowing me to pass.  With smiles.

I made the connection.  And I grinned.  And I decided I'd move these bras to the top of my drawer, for easy runs.

You see, while I may feel a bit silly wearing the things, I've also come to realize that in this world, a woman's ample chest (or _relatively_ ample, in my case - these things aren't THAT padded) is still the equivalent of a skeleton key.

I may brag that I made my way in the corporate world based on my skills and merits (and my chest proves it so), but I'm not adverse to using other tools in certain situations.  Especially when my pleasant easy run is a bit more pleasant and easy on a beautiful Saturday morning.

I'm practical, you see.  (And the bras do fit really well, and I do like the patterns).

Do I feel a bit dishonest?  Well, sure.  In a way, it's deceptive advertising.

But that's why I've ordered this shirt, as a disclaimer.

I'll wear it come fall.  Promise.

The day after

Yup, the picture to my right is pretty much how my quads felt on Monday.  I always thought that marathoners were exaggerating this somewhat, or that you only experienced this on hilly courses, or if you overstrided.  Nope.  Apparently it's universal.

By Monday night, the soreness had subsided, but I was left in the odd position of having legs that were incapable of bending.  I could sit.  Or I could stand.  But transitioning between the two states was....challenging. 

Men clearly have it easier when recovering from a marathon.  Why?  Because they can rehydrate intensively without fear of having to sit to pee.

Some other observations from the past few days.

• I now understand the appeal of wearing your medal for the first few days.  It's the equivalent of a handicapped tag.  Without my medal around my neck, I find I've become one of "those people" - those who announce they've just run a marathon within 3 minutes of introduction.  I'm not doing it to brag, but just to explain why I'm walking slower than a 90 year old, clutching desperately to the rail when I mount or descend stairs, or ordering TWO entrees at lunch.
• I have spent way too much time reading other race reports about the same race I just ran.  My favorite is this one - like anyone else, I like it when someone much faster than I confirms that the wind kinda sucked (sustained of 10-20 MPH, with higher gusts, according to the Running Weatherman).  
• They really should have reserved parking spaces for people who hang marathon medals from the past 3 days on their rear view mirrors.  I was much more mobile when I had my broken foot.

•  I am truly disappointed that not one person has responded to my Shamrock Marathon race report with the comment "Sham WOW."
• If I'm going to run more marathons, I need to move to a place that's designed with handrails and elevators everywhere.
• For the second year in a row, I've made the same mistake.  That mistake is 1) running a race on St. Patricks Day that leaves me in a deliriously happy daze, but also crippled; 2) sleeping over at my boyfriend's that night; and then 3) shambling through the pharmacy early the next morning to pick up fluids and my birth control meds, requesting my prescription in a raspy voice.  I need a t-shirt that says "Honestly, I went to bed at nine last night."
• Don't try to go to work the day after a marathon. 
• Don't schedule a rock concert for the day after a marathon. 
  
  I actually stayed seated at a KMFDM show.  The shame.
• They gave me a really nice thing at the end of Shamrock - a finisher's blanket.  Really cool.  The downside is that I've now devolved to a 4 year old who drags her blanket with her everywhere. 
• When I think about it, this marathoning stuff is really easy.  Spend a week doing nothing but sitting and eating, run a few hours while people hand you drinks and sugary stuff, then spend another week doing nothing but sitting and eating.  Not bad at all.

Repast riposte

So, my name is Cris.  And I have a friend named Mollie.

I'm on the left, Mollie's on the right. 
Our friend Kate's in the middle. 
Yes, I'm short.

 Mollie and I have a lot in common.  We run.  With the same group, even.  Our training paces are similar, and we're both aiming for marathons on March 17. We also both blog.  Her blog is "Eat, Run, Read."

Again, there's some similarities.  I, like Mollie, eat some times.  I also read sometimes.

(as you may know, I also run a bit).

But there's differences as well.

Mollie is a foodie, packing her blog with examples of all the great things she's baked, broiled, stir-fried, etc.  She's pretty talented.

I'm talented also.  I destroy cookware regularly.

Earlier this week, Mollie noted that our mutual coach had chastised her for not eating enough vegetables.  In response, she posted images (all appealing) of her normal dinner, which was packed with veggie goodness.  Along with instructions on how she prepared it that included scary words like "saute" and "pan-steam" and "finely chopped almonds" and "kale."

Food by Mollie (image stolen from her blog)

Well, Mollie, there's a different world out there.  Here's how we non-foodies do it.

This is my kitchen.  Note that I have two microwaves.   I use microwaves all the time, while the oven and stove each get used once a week (for cooking the week's supply of meat and hardboiling eggs.  Hence, two microwaves.  I can bake a potato and nuke a bag of frozen veggies simultaneously.  It's pure awesome.

Carbs?  Sure.  I got carbs.  See below. 

Carbs the first - potatoes

Carbs the second (apples and bananas)

And, I also have other stuff.  This is my fridge.  I pre-cook chicken, bison meat, and beef once a week and store in containers.  I also do a big hard boil "eggstravaganza" (I am SO clever) weekly.  Yes, that's two packs of eggs there (plus the third on the door shelf).  No, the "Science Diet K/D" isn't mine.  But all the coconut water is.  That's also a big thing of brown rice on the right side under the bison.

Where are my veggies?  All in the freezer.

All about the coconut water.

As for my "non-cook's" version of Mollie's Bowl O'Dinner, here you go.  Hers undoubtedly tastes better; mine has the advantage of speed and less stuff to clean.

Mollie uses seasonings.  I do also.  Salt and pepper (what else is there?).

Pepper shaker and woefully inadequate decorative salt shaker.

Now that, THAT is a salt shaker, my friends.

 Here's how I make my dinner in a bowl.

Step 1: remove ingredients from fridge and cupboard. They include butter, bag of frozen veggies, can of salmon, and salt

Step 2: Microwave veggies.  For 6 minutes.  In my house, everything nukes for 6 minutes.  At the end of which, it's either burnt or not quite done.  If the latter, nuke some more.



.

Step 3: Dump some of veggies into bowl, open can of salmon, and spoon some salmon onto veggies.  Then salt and butter to taste (and I have no taste).  Then eat.

Yes, this is actually several steps, but I didn't take enough photos.


The possibilities are infinite, BTW.  You can have frozen veggies and precooked steak, frozen veggies and pre-cooked chicken, frozen veggies and eggs....More salt, or even MORE SALT.  You're limited only by Noah's ark, your checkbook, and your salt shaker.

 

 Mollie, eat your herb encrusted artichoke heart out.

Random thoughts about running.

I feel the need to generate blog content.  Hence, another installment of (booming voice) random thoughts about running.

• Is it really a "cool-down" when it's hot outside? On Saturday, my friend referred to our post-race jog as a "warm-down" - much more appropriate, IMHO.
  
• People regularly often state that their Garmins read long at the end of the race because they "didn't run the tangents."  To the right is a Garmin upload from a recent race - the red line is what my Garmin reports I ran; the pink line is my addition, indicating the path I actually took.  As you can see, the Garmin believes that I ran through three buildings during my race.  Do you really think a Garmin is accurate enough to tell which side of the street you ran on?
  
• There's a whole range of possible gel flavors not currently offered by any company.  Birthday Cake!  Coconut!  Irish Creme!
  
• There's also quite a few potential gel flavors that would NOT work well.  Guacamole, cheeseburger, and tuna come to mind.
  
• I'm still undecided on Pepto Bismol as a potential gel flavor.
  
• Confession: I really didn't like "Spirit of the Marathon" -- too many different runners being followed, too much "woo marathon."  It could have been a fantastic documentary if they had just focused on Daniel Njenga.
  
• Dear Competitor Group.  I'd actually pay money to run a race that did NOT feature your version of "rock bands."
  

• 

  Yup.  Nearly 2 pounds at the hot bar. 

  The bastard love child of Jeff Galloway and Suze Orman strongly advises you NOT to go shopping at Whole Foods immediately after your long run.  And if you do engage in such, NOT to hit the hot foods bar.  (The bastard love child of Jeff Galloway and Suze Orman also laments cruel fate at being given such parents as s/he run-walks to the bank offering the best rate on 90 day CDs).
  
• Large races are invariably accompanied by spectators compelled to scream "you're almost there" at seemingly random (but NOT "almost there") points on course.  Fail.  Here's a handy reference guide for the zone (specific to each distance) where it is appropriate to claim that the finish is near.
• Distance: 10K and further - in the last .2 of the course.
• Distance: 5K-10K - in the last .1 of the course.
• Distance: shorter than 5K - never.

what not to wear (part 3)

So, from time to time I venture into the world of online shopping.  As an avid pool-runner, I go through bathing suits pretty quickly, so I'll often browse sites to see what I can find.  And Zappos never disappoints.

Third in a popular series (see previous posts here and here), this is another edition of  "What Not to Wear (when pool-running)."

I didn't realize they wore bathing suits at Ren Faires.

This model couldn't be happier to be wearing this suit.

Cue theme from Bonanza!  Or maybe the Beverly Hillbillies.

This is what happens if you don't put your suit
in the suit spinner with the straps DOWN.

The safety suit -- works great for
ensuring the lifeguards don't miss you
when you're lifeless at the bottom of the pool.

This suit is $337.99 (down from $450).  What a bargain. 
Especially since plain black suits are so hard to find.
Even the model is impressed.

TSA approved swimsuit!  No need for scan or physical patdown!

Your research dollars at work

So....according to RunnersWorld, consumption of beets can improve one's finishing kick substantially.

Runner's haven

According to the article, "[s]peeds were consistent for the first portions of both time trials, but subjects tended to speed up during the last 1.1 miles of the workout after eating beets, resulting in a faster overall time—five percent faster, on average."

Interesting.  But I note: beets are also supposedly one of the "top 5 natural laxatives."

I can't be the only one seeing a connection here.

Was it really necessary to research this?

What not to wear, redux

A sequel to my previous post. 

From time to time, I hit Zappos to shop for bathing suits on line.  I always enjoy this immensely.  Here's a sampling of the offerings, with my commentary as a bonus.

We begin.

This is the
"Body Glove Smoothies Sexylicious Love Bra One Piece"
I have nothing to add to that.

Because nothing says "adult" like little baby blue bow ties.

Clearly this woman has strained her pectoral and abdominal muscles,
and is wearing compression garments to aid in quick recovery.

This is a $395 swimsuit. 
For that price, you'd think they could include straps.

The "Orca 226 Lite"
"I KNOW, let's name our women's swimsuits after WHALES!"

Pretty cool -- if you can actually get this on
without outside assistance, you've proven
both your intelligence and your flexibility.

 

When you can't pay a model enough to wear it,
you know the suit is ugly.

Random (Running) Friday Thoughts

No real intro.  Let's just get into them.

• There is a substantial overlap between a) those who strongly oppose stability running shoes and orthotics because they alter one's footstrike and running gait and b) those who strongly advocate Newton running shoes because they alter one's footstrike and running gait.  And if you point this out to them, they stutter and stammer.
  
  
• If you coat your face with Vaseline before a windy or cold or rainy run, your skin will feel great afterwards. This also works for pool-running.
  
  
• Rocktape makes therapeutic tape in black with skulls. 
  So.Freakin.Cool.
  
  
• It's not just you -- nobody wears CWX compression shorts without developing a muffin top.
  
  
• If barefoot running is really the best and fastest way to run, then why do top triathletes spend additional precious time to PUT ON shoes during bike-run transition?
  
  

• 

  From xkcd

  Related to the above...I find it exceedingly hard not to get into internet fights when new runners are continually advised that minimalist shoes are the best in all cases, that orthotics are horrible, that there's one perfect running form, and that heelstriking is evil.  The number of people who have read Born to Run multiple times, but never read any Lydiard or Jack Daniels is about as sad as the fact that Creed have sold more albums than Jimi Hendrix.
  
  
• Tempo runs on the track can be miserable if you count down laps.  Works much better to decide that you'll be running at tempo effort for roughly x minutes, and then stop after that time.
  
  
• There are few things crueler to an early morning runner than the locked portapotty.
  
  
• 
  It's funny how many people start running so that they can eat whatever they want, and then over time shift to worrying about how what they eat will affect their running.
  
  
  
• Apparently people are now running in non-compression knee-high socks just for the looks of it, as opposed to those of us who suffer through compression socks upon the recommendation of PT or doctor.  My first thought is that I don't understand why anyone would wear knee-high socks if they didn't have to, especially in the summer.  My second thought is that it would be DAMN COOL if CEP made socks that looked like these.
  
  
• It's always better to run one mile or repetition or workout or race too few then one mile or repetition or workout or race too many.
  
  
• 
  In October of last year, I broke the handle of my Army 10 Miler mug the morning of a race that marked a turnaround point in my running.   Yesterday, I received in the mail my commemorative mug from Cherry Blossom for beating the 71:19 mark.  It arrived with the handle broken.  I consider that a positive omen of where my running goes from here.
  

The Taper

So, I decided to try really-truly-uber tapering this week.  As an experiment.  And I have been adhering.  Swear on deity-of-choice, I have.

And thus, a day before my race, I find myself

1. bloated, 
2. irritable, 
3. stiff, 
4. achy, 
5. craving sweets and salt,
6. unable to sleep, and
7. unable to focus.

So.... tapering is pretty much just self-induced PMS, isn't it?

Wow, and all this time I had no idea what I was missing.

The meme

And so, another race season begins this weekend.  Bring on the photos!