Getting Kicked in the Head

I read my blog from one year ago this morning.  It's been nearly one year since I completed the Ironman World Championship in Kona.  At this time last year I was counting down every day, reflecting on my preceding Ironman events.  This day's reflection was on Ironman St. George 2012, and my daughter asked me if my favorite line that Ironman is a metaphor for life was about "getting kicked in the head every day."  Wow!  A year later, dealing with COVID-19 and everything it has wrought to upend the lives of everyone throughout the world, that thought rings true.  

I was pretty tired last night.  I should know why.  I've run 197 miles in the month of September, nearly 30 of which were over this past weekend.  The fatigue finally added up and slammed me last night.  I guess that's my kick in the head, for the week.  I have a decision to make this morning.  Do I run three miles, so that I can be proud of achieving a 200 mile month, or do I scrap the idea and focus solely on recovering?  Can I do both?  I realized last night that my slow run yesterday expended too much energy.  I suppose that means that I really was still carrying around a significant amount of fatigue, but was either ignoring it, or just not recognizing it.  That's always the challenge.

My right glutei tightened up yesterday at the end of my run.  That means I need to do Romanian dead lifts, the cure for my glute tightness.  A massage helped, but the tightness is still there this morning.  Nothing that I haven't lived with before.  

I'm going to avoid blogging about last night's debate, with one exception, my tweet regarding the cognitive function of Vice President Biden has already garnered over 450 likes.  I think that's a record for me.  More importantly, I was proud of his performance on multiple levels.  He took what a bully kept throwing at him and responded with grace, poise and toughness.  I really don't like bullies, and watching the debate was emotionally exhausting.  Another day of getting kicked in the head.

Trusting How You Feel

Yesterday, I had an idea. To run from my home to the ocean and back.  I'd been thinking about it for over a week.  The idea of running on the trails was really at the heart of the idea.  In some ways, the distance was somewhat of an afterthought.  I'm really at a point in my running, where going out and running over twenty miles probably wouldn't add too much value, but also wouldn't prove anything to myself either.  Yet, I had the idea.  There is something about trail running that is freeing.  For me, sometimes too freeing. I get so lost in the run that I've tripped and fallen on more than one occasion.  I stubbed my toe once yesterday, early in my run, reminding myself to pay attention to the ground in front of me.  It's actually not too hard to pay attention to the ground in front, while enjoying and taking in the surroundings. It's all about trusting how you feel.  

The one thing I did compromise on yesterday was to start walking steep climbs very early into my run.  Of note, it really didn't slow me down much, which is something I learned from my friend Robert Key.  In fact I found myself maintaining a rather comfortable 10 minute per mile pace throughout the first half of my run.  Of course, in total, that part of the run had a gentle decline throughout, except for one mile with a pretty steep decline.  In fact, just before starting that portion of the run, at about 4 miles, I took a photo. 

Off on my run, I enjoyed the mountains and the trail.  I got lost in the feeling of running.  This was really important, as it's something I've struggled with over the past 6 1/2 months.  Getting lost outside of my obsession for everything COVID-19 has been a challenge.  But I knew that I was ready to appreciate the surroundings and the feeling of running.  When I got to the 8 mile mark, I thought it was worth stopping for a photo.  This was where I'd normally be done with my daily run.  Today, my run was just starting. 

I had brought my mask along and put it over my face whenever I came across another hiker or mountain biker or runner.  The only runners I happened upon were four young men who clearly were competitive runners.  I had brought along four bottles of fluids in a fanny pack.  I didn't quite appreciate the impact that would have on my back until I went to bed and noticed how much my back had been bothering me, while the rest of my body had tolerated the run pretty well.  There was a time when my legs would have been quite sore from this type of run.  I will admit that my quads felt a little sore as I got near the beach, which was ~11.25 miles from the start of my run.

I almost walked, on the sand, to the ocean, but didn't want to grapple with sand in my shoes for the run back.  So I just took a few minutes to enjoy where I was, before heading back home.  As expected, the quad soreness disappeared the moment I began the return, and primarily uphill trip home.  It quickly became apparent to me that my pace on the way back was no slower than 11 minute pace, making my average pace for the whole run somewhere around 10:30.  Ironically, this was the pace of my 8 mile hilly runs when I began doing them nearly 3 months ago.  Running at this pace was comfortable, and that was the point.  There was never a time during this run, at least until the one major climb coming up, when I ran hard.  It was all about trusting how I felt.

This photo doesn't begin to capture the steepness of the climb ahead.  I power walked up the climb and intermingled some short bouts of running.  I didn't want this to be easy.  I was 18 miles into my run and I felt the need to show myself that I could run up a steep climb.  When I crested the top, I kept running for the next couple of miles, getting off the trail as I neared mile 20.  I had another half a mile to go before I got to a climb that I do every day.  Today, however, I was going to treat myself to walking up the climb.  I'd already done 20.5 miles of running, and I knew that when I got to the top of the climb, I had a mile of downhill running that I could test myself out on.  Which I did, managing to run down "mile 8" of my daily 8 mile run at around 9 minute pace.  That was ok today.  I walked up my short climb at the end to my house and sat down in my front yard, caked in dirt. 

I still haven't decided what to do today.  Another routine 8 mile run? Rest? Walking? A shorter run? I don't know, even after writing my blog.  I'll just have to trust how I feel.

Writing, Blogging, Running and Meditating

Perhaps it isn't a surprise that I haven't blogged since I wrote about Pete.  Death has been something that I've struggled with, though the COVID-19 Pandemic has somehow brought me to a place of greater comfort with the concept.  My daily blog is supposed to be a habit, and when I wake up knowing what I want to blog about, it's quite easy.  Over the past 10 days, I'm not sure that I've woken up with that knowledge.  Instead, I've awakened with any number of actionable tasks, many of which include writing of some sort, whether it be sending email thank you's to people who attended our Zoom Biden/Harris Campaign Event, or just catching up on the countless emails I have to respond to.  Nevertheless, there is a difference between writing and blogging, and today I'm back to blogging.  Maybe that's good, maybe that is a reminder to me. Writing and blogging might have something in common with running and meditating.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've encountered the feeling that I've wanted to run more.  In fact, one of those feelings coincided with the desire to get out and run on the trails.  Moreover, running on the trails was associated with the idea of running long.  Since early July, my runs have been limited to 8 miles.  Granted, running 8 miles every day has been its own challenge.  Some of those runs include some degree of mental intensity, others allow me to think about things I have to do that day, and others might actually be meditative in nature.  There's no question that doing a long run on the trails will have a meditative component.  At least, that's why I think the trails are calling me.

Just like not blogging, I really haven't been meditating.  True meditation really allows one to let the mind relax and be free.  It's something that I've definitely struggled with since the outbreak of COVID-19.  I have a hard time freeing my mind from the many tasks and pressures at hand.  Trail running, with the caveat that I can't trip and fall, could be just the right thing for me. There's also a matter of numbers.  I've been really good about not being a slave to numbers, but I've run 35 miles this week, and a long trail run will allow me to push my weekly numbers to heights they've rarely been to.  That is, of course, if I top off today's long run with another run tomorrow.  I diverge from being in the moment. That, after all, is the point of meditating and blogging. 

We'll see what the day brings.  I know a route to the beach, and I'll see how far my legs take me.  I might just end up doing a lot of walking on the way back.  That would be ok too.  It's not about numbers, it's not even about goals.  It's about feeling.

Ode to Pete

Avery "Pete" Peterson passed away yesterday.  He and his wife were one of my first patients after I opened my clinic in Colorado. Over the years, he became my friend.  After I moved away, I'd visit his when I visited Colorado, and I'd call him every few months or so.  He apparently got pneumonia and went to the hospital, a place that was pretty foreign to him.  His condition improved.  Then he passed away.  Which is as it should have been.  It wouldn't have been right for Pete to die while suffering.  He "suffered" most of the time that I knew him.  Pete lived through the Spanish Flu of 1919 and got through 6 months of the COVID-19 Pandemic.  My grandson and I attended Pete's 100th Birthday two years ago.  Pete died at the age of 102 years and 4 months.

Pete was unique, as we all are.  To the end, he would walk with his walker as much as he could every day. Pete was always complaining about some physical or emotional ailment.  He was often anxious, he had reflux, he had a tremor.  I barely remember a time that I saw or spoke to him that he didn't talk about these maladies.  But, they were part of who Pete was.  Pete had been in human resources, like my good friend Ray.  I must have an affinity for people who work in human resources.  

Pete's wife died many years ago.  He had prostate cancer, and is the patient that I often tell the story of who was hospitalized with pneumonia at the age of 88.  That was when I realized that the treatment for his prostate cancer was killing him as well.  We stopped the treatment and actually put him on testosterone for a year.  He began making his own testosterone within that year and never needed it again.  His PSA got up to 17 and stabilized after a few years and we never checked it again.  

Not long after Pete was hospitalized, he realized that he couldn't live at home anymore.  He made the tortured decision to move into a continuing care retirement community.  He ultimately decided, with my help, to move into the assisted living section.  He didn't want to move again, and his physical limitations dictated that he might need some more help sooner rather than later.  That was over a decade ago.  Pete lived in his room in the assisted living facility all of those years since.  Other residents passed away, but Pete persevered.

Pete loved to tell people about his friend, Doctor Wasserman.  That's how I found out about his death, with one of my former physician assistants messaging me yesterday about his death.  I know that he was proud of me, but I was proud to be a friend of Pete's.  Rest in Peace, Avery "Pete" Peterson.

Chasing Numbers

I'm not sure if I'll run today.  Sleeping in was a greater priority.  Getting in 32 miles of running for the week versus 24 miles is just a number.  Getting another day of rest might be a greater priority.  I won't know until the day unfolds.  I have a call this morning, so I've already missed my morning "window" to run.  That might actually be ok, if it gets me to focus on how I feel and what my body wants and needs today.  Since I went to sleep later than usual last night, at least my body knew enough to get a good night's sleep.  That is absolutely critical for me these days.  

It really shouldn't be about a number.  As I try to find the balance in my life, what I do from a running, and ultimately triathlon, perspective, should not be about chasing numbers. It should be about how I feel.  It shouldn't be about what I do on any particular day, but how the flow of my life feels.  I've been allowing myself to watch the Tour de France this week. I say allow, because it feels like I'm giving myself a treat, or letting myself step away from the seriousness that has become my life in the past six months.  I've always been a very serious person, but there must be a balance to that.  Chasing numbers is part of that seriousness.  

I had wanted to assert myself and achieve the best time possible at Kona last year. It's been eleven months since I finished the Kona Ironman World Championship.  I got sick the week of the race and, on race day, was really unable to chase a number.  The day became about the experience, as well it should be.  I remember reminding myself, as I rode my bike down the Queen K, that I had a front row seat, no, I was on the field, of the biggest event in triathlon.  It was like being on the field at the Super Bowl.  As I came on the finish line, it wasn't about chasing a number, it was about patting the 75 year old gentlemen in front of me on the back, proud of what he'd achieved.  That's what it's all about!

Reflections

19 years ago today, I was rounding in the early morning at Garden Terrace in Aurora, CO, an Alzheimer's Nursing Facility. The television was on and the news of the first plane crashing into the Twin Towers was playing.  The tension in the facility was palpable and it was one of those moments when it became clear that a facility full of people with dementia took their cues from the staff and the television set.  It didn't take me long to order the television sets turned off.  I happened to be the medical director of the facility and it was obvious to me that this was not healthy for the residents.  They couldn't understand what was going on.  Not that any of us could either.  

Today is a reminder that we are all Americans.  We are one people who live in a country founded on certain principles.  We talk about liberty. We talk about freedom.  We only have these things if we have each other.  And we must also have each others backs.  Of all of the days in the year, I will reflect today on the importance of looking forward and approaching life positively.  Every day can be a challenge, but that's life.  

The residents in my facility nineteen years ago did not understand what was happening.  I did, but I also understood that they didn't.  We are all Americans and we have to look out for each other. 

Breaking Barriers

Well, I really did end up going after a bunch of records yesterday.  Not in the morning, when I usually run, but in the early evening, when I'm usually too tired to run.  I really was feeling unsettled, which I've been the last few days, and needed to release some energy.  So I took off and just let the run come to me.  I thought that I might have to back down at some point, but never did.  The result? A two minute personal best for my 8 mile hilly course!  Wow!  Miles 3, 4, and 6 were all-time bests, and Miles 2 and 7 were right up there.  Miles 1 and 8 were solid, reflecting the fact that I paced myself much better than I might have thought.  More importantly, it felt good to run hard.  My mind and body needed it.  I guess the need to break barriers is an important one for me.

Starting my run hard is always a challenge for two reasons.  First, there is definitely a need to warm up effectively, for which, if I don't, I will pay for it in many ways.  Second, the first few hundred meters are a fairly steep downhill, but then, the next mile is all uphill, fortunately not getting too steep until I get to the end of it, by which time I'm usually ready to start pushing harder.  I try to take advantage of the initial downhill to get some speed without hammering my body, and then I try to gradually increase my pace and effort as I start the uphill portion in a way that allows me to work myself into the run.  Yesterday went great, as my time for the first mile was definitely in the upper range, but not my fastest.  In fact, I think that I've managed to get under 8 minutes one time, fully warmed up and going all out.  My time yesterday was 9:20.  I actually have only gone under 9 minutes when I'm going hard just for the one mile, and my fastest time during my 8 mile runs has been 9:07.  Perfect.  

The second mile is where the real effort to go fast starts.  It starts with a steep 500 meter uphill and then flattens before gradually going downhill.  Getting a fast time here is all about pacing and achieving a solid effort.  My PR for this mile was a couple of weeks ago, when I only ran this mile hard and managed to go 8:47, my first time under 9 minutes, until I managed 8:57 today.  Miles 3, 4 and 5 were all ~8:25, all essentially my fastest miles for these, and then Mile 6 was also my fastest ever at 9:05, a full 20 seconds faster than anything I've done before.  This was significant in lieu of the fact that it's mile 6, a net uphill, finishing with a short, steep 200 meters and beginning another long climb at the beginning of mile 7.  How I enter Mile 7 is key, and yesterday, I pushed Mile 6, backing off slightly on the steep uphill at the end in order to make sure I had both the breathing and the legs to finish strong.  Really happy with my pacing and effort.  I was toggling between a very hard Zone 2 and a strong Tempo effort.  

Mile 7 is uphill until the last 500 meters which is a steep downhill, where I typically make up time.  That's the challenge, going fast for 500 meters, which is more related to my legs than my breathing.  My fastest time ever on this section is 8:12, and so I was thrilled to see 8:24 on my watch as I completed the mile.  Mile 8 is always about hanging tough on a long downhill, until the last 400 meters, which flattens out to finish with 200 meters steeply uphill to the finish.  I've gotten pretty good about being able to finish strong over the last 200 meters, no matter how I feel, and yesterday was no exception.  I kept a solid pace on the downhill, making sure I didn't blow up and leaving myself some energy for the final climb.  My PR for this mile is 7:55 and I was also thrilled to manage 8:08 yesterday.  

I literally took two full minutes off my fastest time on my hilly 8 mile course.  Could I have gone faster? Maybe.  But, in the context of what I was trying to do, this was perfect.  It wasn't a race, it was a very, very solid hard effort for 69 minutes.  Being 8 miles, and being more than an hour, it shouldn't be either a 10K or a lactic threshold effort.  Most likely, I pretty much nailed the effort.  The other positive was that it just felt good.  It was hard, definitely hard, but it felt good.  I got my broken barrier and I got the endorphins that I think I needed yesterday!

Setting Records

My daily runs follow a pattern. I set out with the goal of just having a comfortable run.  Shortly into my run I assess how I feel.  If I'm feeling good, I start thinking about pushing harder during certain parts of my run where I can compare my time over a segment.  Can I set a record today?  The good thing about my 8 mile course is that I have many segments with which to set records.  At the same time, I'm endeavoring not to push too hard on any given day.  That's the key.  Pushing too hard saps me of needed energy.  Energy that I need to accomplish the other things that are always piling up in my life.  Yet, the records beckon.  It's interesting that I rarely actually set a record anymore.  I've run hard on my eight mile course enough times now that breaking a record for a segment is increasingly difficult, though not impossible.

I've been really patient over the past week or so, insofar as I've not pushed too hard during my runs, except when I do.  While I may not push hard enough to set a record on a segment of my course, I have "mini-goals" in my head as I run.  Can I finish the course in under 80 minutes? 79 minutes? 77 minutes? Can I run Mile 7 faster than normal?  I guess that's what keeps us going.  It's what keeps us motivated.  I set out yesterday to just run comfortably, but somehow decided to push hard during the 7th mile.  Did it tire me out a little more than I had planned? Perhaps?  Was it worth it? Definitely.

I guess that's what it's all about.  Motivation.  On the other hand, I have other things motivating me on a daily basis.  That's actually part of my problem.  Once again, the other things have quickly piled up and are putting pressure on me.  My run gives me a place to let off steam, to be motivated and get things done where I may not get the same feeling in the rest of my day.  During the first two months of COVID-19 I was getting a lot of things done but wasn't running, wasn't working out.  I was setting other records.  But I needed some balance.  Balance.  Setting records. 

Taking Care of the Mind, and Body

I slept 12 hours last night.  Really.  That was enough to answer the question of what I was supposed to do today. Rest. First, rest my body. That's easier for me to do.  No running. No walking (there's poor air quality anyway today). I might do some pushups as I've begun to wonder whether my lack of core training over the past six months has contributed to my recent back issues.  I am getting a massage today. I can take care of my body.  Seven straight days of 8 mile runs, in the heat, have certainly added positive stress to my physiology.  What about my mind?

As I caught up on emails this morning, I felt anxiety.  Why? Simple, there's so much to do and that's been my problem.  I've been pretty good the past two days insofar as staying away from too much mental stress and activity.  I've been enjoying golf and the Tour de France.  I've done some reading.  I think that my mind, and body, are telling me that's a good idea, and I need to continue to do it.  Fortunately, I still have most of the day ahead of me if I pay attention to taking care of myself.  I am getting a massage, and I certainly have time to meditate (I think I wrote about that the other day, but didn't avail myself of the modality).

We live in a world where information abounds.  Too much for that matter.  It puts a strain on the brain.  There should be only so much that we need to know.  Getting into those habits are the key.  It should be about taking care of the mind and the body.

Another Week of Running

I've struggled the last three weeks with putting together seven straight days of running.  I've had back spasms, fatigue, more fatigue.  For the past week, I've managed to run my 8 miles every day.  Today will be my seventh straight day.  I woke up a little tired.  But, the seventh straight day beckons.  The air quality is once again moderate, albeit, just on the border of good and moderate, so I have a choice in terms of wearing a mask.  It's going to be another hot day, but, if I get out on the road soon, at least I can run in 80 degree temperatures and avoid seeing 90 by the time I finish.  Writing about today's run only serves to encourage me to get out the door. If I complete today's run, it will actually be my 5th week of running 8 miles seven days in a row in the past 8 weeks.  On the other hand, in those 56 days (including today), I will have run 44 days.  That's 352 miles.  That's 44 miles a week.  That's Jerry West's old number.  I've got to love it!  

It's kind of funny.  There are people who put a lot of stock in numbers.  Our family loves numbers like 11 and we love time's on the clock like "11:11."  44 is symmetrical. It also adds up to eight!  So, there we are.  I don't really know what any of this means, but it's fun to play with it.  That's the approach I need to take today. Playful.  Yesterday, I ran comfortably, but it still took a lot out of me due to the oppressive heat.  Today will be warm again, and even warmer if I don't finish this blog and get outside to run!

Habits are good, but they need to be healthy.  I promised myself last week to start meditating again, and I haven't done so.  Maybe focusing on one to two habits at a time is all that the human mind and body can tolerate.  This week has been focused on getting in my runs again.  I'm feeling a little tired, but I'm going to make it happen.  No stress, no strain, just putting one foot in front of the other for eight miles.  Another week of running.

Staying Within My Limits

 It's been a week of pacing myself.  I've run 8 miles each of the first three days of the week, each day making the effort not to give too much effort.  As my coach noted this week, I've actually been pretty consistent for the past few months, and have developed solid base from which to work off.  When I have such a base, I tend to get a little antsy and I start pushing a little (too) hard.  When pushing too hard comes in the context of the rest of my life, that's when I start feeling the fatigue.  This week has become about staying within my limits.  I've really tried hard not to try hard.  So far, I've been successful. Each day's run has unfolded to be a little different, but I've really stayed within my limits for the first seven miles.  I play around a little over the last mile, but not to the degree that I'm going to put myself over my limits.  With one exception. I do take the last uphill 150m to my house pretty hard.  That's ok.  I can stand 50 seconds of intensity at the end of my run.  

When comparing the last few days to my 8 mile runs at the beginning of this endeavor just 8 weeks ago, I'm completing the run in about 75-77 minutes, at a comfortable to solid Zone 2 effort, which just couple of months ago translated to 82-85 minutes.  That's a pretty considerable improvement over two months, and also reflects that I restarted my running nearly three months ago.  It's been a long time since I've only been a runner.  It's also been a long time since I've run nearly every day.  For now, the key is to stay within my limits, until I feel the urge not to.  

My leaning right now is to keep this entire week calm and relatively easy, and decide on Sunday whether I want to break out with a harder run.  If I look back at my training logs over the past several weeks, at certain points, I just start pushing harder during my runs.  That's me.  On a certain level, I run based on how I feel, which is great.  On another level, I sometimes have the need to test my limits.  On yet another level, I strive not to have limits!   I guess, like Ironman, running can be a metaphor for life!

Perspective

1,000 People a day dying from COVID-19. One thousand. Why isn't this on the front page. Every day.  Perspective. When something becomes commonplace, people get used to it.  Older adults in nursing homes are dying every day from COVID-19. It's not on the front page. It's happening every day. Perspective. I woke up today worrying about the fact that I've been worrying about COVID-19 and it's impact on older adults for six months. Perspective.  From my perspective, this is still a big deal.  To a lot of people, it's become commonplace.

How do we change people's perspective? That may actually be the overriding question at this time.  If we're actually going to do something about this problem, if we're actually going to reduce the number of deaths, we first have to change the way the average person looks at the situation.  It's sad, but true.  It's also the same reason that journalists aren't writing about nursing home deaths anymore.  It's not a story.  Not only do the deaths need to be messaged, but they need to be messaged in a way that gets people's attention. That tugs at their heartstrings.  

It's unfortunate that our society is steeped in ageism  Nursing home residents don't really matter to anyone but their families.  Their families can't even visit their loved ones.  There's an "outcry" amongst a small group of people.  Are nursing home parking lots every overflowing with visitors? No. That's the irony. In normal times, nursing homes don't have a lot of visitors.  Neither do assisted living facilities.  We dealt with that when our neighbors were worried about the traffic from an assisted living facility being built near our last house.  I thought it was "funny." No one comes to visit.  Perspective.

Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised that no one cares about people during COVID-19 whom no one cared about prior to COVID-19.  Even if they're dying.  It's all about perspective.

Fear

The thing about COVID-19 is that it is scary.  Allergies that cause a little nasal drip or scratchy throat, feeling warm because the temperature is in the house is up, these mundane feelings take on a greater level of gravity in the world of COVID-19.  The human mind is challenged by these types of feelings.  We inherently want to live, that's human nature.  We certainly don't want to die due to unnatural reasons.  COVID-19 lurks in the background, making one question there every move.  Could I have come in contact with the virus? The questions lurk.  Fear is a strong emotion.

When the  COVID-19 pandemic broke out, I'd been meditating daily for two months.  I kept that going for another three before breaking my habit, and now it's time to get back to daily meditation.  It's arguably the number one antidote to fear.  We all fight uncertainty.  It can grab ahold of our mind and take over.  You think about opportunities where you might have been exposed to the virus, and replay them in your mind.  Fear.  All one can do is rest and recognize that you can't control every circumstance.  Yet this lethal virus lurks, and creates more fear.

I ran yesterday.  It was a good run, with the exception of taking a misstep off the curb which caused me to land awkwardly on one foot.  I think this tweaked my back a bit, but we'll know more later today.  I my have dodged a bullet.  Running is the one thing that has been taking the place of meditation, although I believe that I need to do both.  Fortunately, there's been less smoke in the air, although I do believe that the weed pollens are out in force. Fear. We can't let it take over.