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The Accidental Anatomist

human-anatomyLatissimus dorsi, vastus lateralis and brachioradialis, OH MY!

Before I became a serious runner, all of the above would have been Greek to me.  Or Latin.  Yeah, probably would have been Latin.*  But after several years of dedicated pavement pounding I am proud to report my working mastery of human anatomy — just one of the myriad benefits of identifying myself as a full-fledged running freak.

In fact, ever since making that dramatic transformation, I have notched one success after another.  I quit smoking.  I reached and now easily maintain optimal body weight.  I got cut up into a lean (still not so mean) fitness machine.

No longer do I suffer from long bouts of depression.  No more do I wake up feeling empty, without purpose, without drive.  I don’t stress nearly as much about mundane, trivial situations that are out of my control; and overcoming hardships — major bumps in the proverbial road of life — hardly seem as impossible as they once did.

Running has taught me how to live — how to really, truly live, in the present, now and forever.

But perhaps one of the most beneficial real world applications born from my active lifestyle is that I learned about my own body.  It started out simply, a long time ago by wondering what might be causing my heels to ache.  That led me to study the soleus… then the anterior and posterior tibialis… then the gastrucnemus, gracilis and sartorius.   Before I knew it I was knee leg deep in anatomical terms, Wikipedia entries and real world exercise science.

The real irony here — and my parents can attest to this — is that as a student, I nearly went out of my way to avoid the sciences.  I wanted nothing to do with understanding the mysteries of the body and in college, the only science classes I ever took were Rocks for Jocks and a bullshit applied chemistry class that I barely attended.

Fast forward to my 30s, after a couple years of really trying to understand my own body, I realized that all of the information I had retained could be applied to my workouts in the gym.  Suddenly, things began to click.  I was not only beginning to understand how my body worked, but also how I could manipulate it into doing what I wanted it to do faster, better and stronger.

And now I use that knowledge every day with my own clients.

Running isn’t just a recreational activity — it’s a potential life changer.  One need look no further than this blog, this LIFE, to see clear evidence of that.

*After much research, it was (and still is) Latin.

Injury Rehab Update

Since my recent less-than-ideal half-marathon experience, things have been going quite well.  I continue to strengthen my gluteus medius, hip flexors and hamstrings in an effort to eradicate the nagging symptoms of ITBS that have held me back since late October.  In recent weeks, I have been able to work in minimal low mileage speedwork as well as some long, slow distance runs — all without any knee pain.  This, to me, is further evidence that the Houston experience was just a simple case of too much, too soon.  I continue to build upon my workouts each week with the hope that I can put in a good effort at Boston.  I don’t expect I’ll be ready to run a fast time by April 15, but I do plan to enjoy the experience and cover the distance pain free.

Besides, I gotta give the gals at Wellesley College a good show of my gluteus maximus in my shortus shortius.

Posted by  |  February 3, 2013 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

Two Steps Forward, One Bum IT Band Back: The 2013 Houston Half Marathon Race Report

midtown-houstonThe two weeks of progressive running leading up to the Houston Half Marathon gave me plenty of confidence that my IT band syndrome issues had finally subsided.  I knew that I probably wasn’t ready to push myself to the point of all out racing, but I knew that I had a good shot at finishing 13.1 miles pain free.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Pre-Race, 4:15 a.m.
The alarm clock goes off and I’m ready to go through my now conditioned routine: half a cup of coffee, one banana and a bagel.  I peek out the window to see the trees outside my dad’s house blowing violently in the wind.  I open the door to see just what type of weather I will be dealing with today and I quickly shut it, less I freeze to death.  Low 40s.  Lots of rain.  20+ mph winds.

Oh, yay.

5:15 a.m.
Dad throws his bike in the back of the truck and we begin the 45 minute drive to downtown Houston.  I didn’t sleep much last night so I take this time to catnap.  I visualize a succesful race, one without knee pain, without giving in to the elements.  Training in Chicago the last several years has made me pretty tough.  I don’t like running in the cold, windy rain (does anyone really?) but I know I have the ability to shut it out, toughen up and just get the work done regardless.

6:40 a.m.
In my corral now, I’m huddled among a mass of anxiously freezing runners.  I have decided to wear my lightweight running jacket over my singlet.  The high powered winds are just too chilling for me to go without it.  A quick look around shows that I’m not the only one dressed for warmth, and as the announcer begins his introductions, the rain starts to come down steady and strong.  A gust of wind hits me below the belt.  Dressed in my trademark short shorts, I start to worry about the safety of “my boys”.  But it’s too late now.  All I can do is focus on running.

*BANG!*

And we’re off…

Miles 1-3
Brrrrrr!  Well, it’s a good thing I’m not trying to break any records today, I remind myself.  The first few miles are a mental showdown between me and the elements.  The winds are strong and mostly in my face, pushing me backwards with violent force, but I just keep my head down and barrel through.  I stop trying to avoid puddles — there are just too many of them, and my feet are already soaked anyway.

Since I lined up at the very front of the corral, I’m not suffocated by a bunch of people tripping and skipping their way across my path.  I’m surrounded by runners who match my fitness level and at the two mile mark I’m drafting inside a tightly formed pack.  My plan is to just go out at a comfortable 7-minute pace and hold it throughout the race.  I cross the three mile marker in 21 minutes.  Right on schedule.

Miles 3-6
My body feels good, but I’m not really enjoying myself.  All I can think to myself is I can’t wait until this is over, I can’t wait until this is over.  This is a rare thought for me, especially during a race, but the elements are wearing on my mind.  The gusts of wind keep coming at me, from all directions, and I’m pretty sure my balls are frozen now.

At least my leg/ITB/knee feels good.

Until, *BAM*, it doesn’t.

Miles 6-9
Oh shit.  Here we go.  I pass the six mile marker and almost immediately, I start to feel that familiar ache developing at the ITB insertion point of my right knee.  No, no, no… this is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening.

Except, it is happening.  And there’s not much I can do about it.

Maybe it’ll go away, I think to myself.  I grit my teeth, trying to ignore it.  But having been dealing with this issue for so long now, I know better.

Around the seven mile marker, I see Dad, a bright spot.  Goooo Jeff! he encourages me.

Not feeling good. My knee is starting to hurt, I tell him.

Uh oh, he responds.  The look on his face is the same look I’ve been carrying for the last mile or so — the same one I was hoping to avoid indefinitely.  Sometimes we do all the right things and we still don’t get what we want.  This is a lesson I’m trying to understand.

I keep going, pushing along as my pack starts to move ahead of me.  The ache is becoming a throb, so I stop and do some ITB stretches, hoping this will make it go away.  The stretching feels good, but once I get moving again, the pain persists.  I push and push and push, but another, more sane voice finds its way inside my head and says, Dude, it’s not worth it. Stop now. Live to fight another fight.

I hate that this voice is right.  But, for once, I listen.

I stop running.  I look down at my watch.  8.62 miles in one hour exactly.

Miles 9-13.1
Well, now what? I ask myself.  All I really want to do is punch something, to scream, to break things.

I resort to a hobble-walk.  I can’t walk too fast.  The ITB pain gets worse the faster I move.

Just as I feel myself succumbing to the dark cavern of negative thoughts, I see Dad up ahead.  I’m happy to see him, but beyond disappointed in my condition.  I tell him how I’m feeling and, knowing how pissy I am right now, he doesn’t say much.  Instead he peddles alongside me on the race course while I try to stay out of the path of the hordes of runners passing me.

I can’t help but feel embarrassed, defeated.  I’m sorry, I tell him.

Don’t be sorry. You have no reason to be sorry with me.

I’m really trying hard not to be a baby right now.

If it wasn’t so damn cold, windy and rainy, maybe I’d have the strength to have a good cry.  But I’m shivering, struggling to stay warm.

Do you want your warm-up pants? he asks.  I try to run again, hoping maybe everything was just in my head.  It wasn’t.  I still have ITBS and running is not an option right now.  We stop so I can put my pants on.  I pin my bib to my front leg.  He gives me his raincoat too, which helps immensely.

We discuss me dropping.  I really want to.  I hate hobble-walking while the crowds continue to cheer for all of those running past me.  I know they mean well, but if I hear one more person tell me I’m doing a good job, when I CLEARLY am not, I might do something stupid.

We get to about the ten mile mark and I decide that not finishing is NOT an option.  DNF’ing was not a part of the plan today, so I’m going to gut this one out and hobble across the finish line no matter what.  Dad labors alongside me on his bike, offering consoling conversation when I need it, but mostly just staying quiet, like me.

I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have a dad who would bike alongside me like this in such shitty conditions, offering up his own coat so that I don’t freeze.  Despite my bum leg, I’m a pretty lucky dude.

With a half mile to go, the course narrows and the crowd grows.  There isn’t enough room for Dad to bike alongside me anymore so he splits off and we agree to meet back at the George R. Brown Center.

I cross the finish line just as the lead American marathoner finishes his 26.2.  The deafening roar drowns out my depression and I take a second to cheer the guy on myself.  I’ll have days like that again someday, I tell myself.  This ain’t my last rodeo.

Post-Race
I’ve had enough time now to find a little bit of healthy perspective on the whole ordeal.  Despite my positive training runs leading up to this event, I’m thinking that my body just wasn’t ready to handle that sort of continuous speed quite yet.  Or maybe it was pounding on the few rolling downhills the course had to offer.  Or maybe it was the conditions.  I don’t know.

I will see my sports doctor on Tuesday to get his perspective and advice.

In the meantime, I’m finding comfort in the fact that I didn’t continue to push my body through the pain — that I didn’t act with recklessness as I probably would have once done.  I let reason dictate my actions.  And I’m hoping such discretion will allow me to have enough time to adequately train for Boston.

Perspective is a bitch sometimes, no doubt, but I’m glad I finally have it.

Posted by  |  January 14, 2013 | Categories: Injury, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

New Year Proverbial Wave Riding (and Race Schedule)

silhouette-of-runner_21136557The New Year generally brings with it a storied whim of clarity, a daring dash of DO IT.  I’d been feeling this wave of confidence in the weeks that led up to January 1st, 2013; and now that the arbitrary date has come and gone, I feel even more pumped riding on the very top of that proverbial wave.

One product of said wave riding is that I am officially training people now.  My personal training and fitness website, Iron Lung Fitness, has all the details.  This is a career move I have been planning for a year and a half, so to actually be doing it, to actually make it happen, is quite a joyous relief.

Another wave that came upon my shore is that of increased strength, power and flexibility.  The six weeks I took off of running were not spent in front of the television with my feet kicked up, rather, they were spent in the gym, gutting it out, punching holes into heavy bags and doing pistol squats until I puked (well, okay, I didn’t actually puke, but I might have felt better had I done so).  Those six weeks were also spent in a yoga studio, where I learned to love bending stuff, including my preconceived notions of what yoga could (or could not) do for me.  Instead of kicking rocks and cursing my injured IT band for not letting me run, I focused on the only thing I could: getting better.

Boy am I better.

On my runs this week I have noticed my easy jogging pace is a whole minute faster than it was at the end of the 2012 season.  Slowly burning into tempo speed also seems easier.  My core feels more firm, my gait more balanced.  And while I suspect some of this perception could be attributed to the extended period of rest, I am quite confident that most of it is due to hard work: getting it done, riding a wave.

My focus for this year, as previously mentioned, is breaking the 3-hour mark in the marathon.  At this point I am going to look towards the Chicago Marathon in October to make the attempt, fully aware that weather could be a deciding factor.  If it happens to be a fluke year weather wise, I’ll adapt and try again late in the season.

The build-up to that will be full of fun too.  I have the Houston Half Marathon coming this Sunday, which will give me a good idea of where my current speed threshold lies, followed by an exciting new local 25K race trail race.  Then April will bring with it my first Boston Marathon, something I’m itching to experience firsthand.  I’m signed up for the Ice Age Trail 50K in May, another new and local middle distance trail race called the Wholly Hell 15K in June and as of now, I’m still trying to find a suitable 50 mile or timed event to tackle in July/August.  Mohican seems to be calling me, but so too does a repeat at Howl at the Moon.

The decision making wave will come to me, eventually.

To stretch my legs out and relax before the big October surge, I’m looking forward to a wild weekend in Hell, Michigan, where I aim to take part in the Run Woodstock weekend.  Tentatively, I’m thinking I’ll do the 50K option, but I may drop down to something shorter so I have time to run the “natural” 5Ks they feature each evening.  Yes, natural.  That means I have to invent a non-invasive adhesive for certain body parts that may be prone to floppage.

After the Chicago Marathon, I’m not quite sure what I will do next.  Hopefully, I’ll be organizing a big party to celebrate an epic finish.  But after my experiences in 2012, I think a good amount of rest will also be in the plan.

Or maybe I’ll just run along and see what wave decides to take me next.

Posted by  |  January 6, 2013 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Dreams Realized, Lessons Learned, Bars Raised

Goodbye, dear 2012, and thanks for the memories.  From a running standpoint, 2012 will go down as the year I upped my game beyond what I ever thought was possible.  And I have the jawbreaking ear-to-ear smile to prove it.

I raced two major marathons and PR’d them both (Houston in January and Chicago in October).  The Chicago race served as my very first Boston Qualifier — a feat that leaves me eternally proud and acutely focused.

In May, I finished my very first 50 mile race at the Ice Age 50 and followed that up in August by logging 50.85 miles during the Howl at the Moon 8 Hour Run.  In the latter race, I also tasted another top ten finish (8th Overall), to go along with those achieved at Clinton Lake (8th Overall) and the Earth Day 50K (1st in Age Division, 4th Overall).

I also ran a few short races, completing my third Chinatown 5K (the race that started it all), while also logging a then PR in the half marathon at Batavia and a respectable time in my first short-distance trail event.

Plus, I got to spend a lot of time with my dear friends from the New Leaf Ultra Runs club, including two unforgettable 100 mile Supergirl pacing experiences (Mohican 100 and Hallucination 100), an inspiring Run Across Illinois and the most liberating impromptu adventure run I have yet to have.

No doubt, 2012 was something to remember.

It was also something to learn from, as the continuous pushing of my body without adequate rest eventually led to an IT band injury and a sincere reevaluation of my training techniques.  But I am happy to report that after 6 weeks off and a highly focused physical therapy regimen, I have begun to run again pain-free and feel confident that I will be able to put forth 100% effort in training for my next major event, the Boston Marathon.

Indeed, a sub-3 hour attempt at Houston in two weeks will not be possible.  However, I was able to transfer my registration down to the half marathon, which I will use as a barometer for my current fitness, the base from which I will begin Boston training in earnest.

And while I do have a couple of 50Ks and perhaps one 50 miler on the schedule for 2013, my main focus will be on the marathon distance and breaking that 3 hour mark.  I am obsessed (in the very best way possible) with seeing my name followed by a 2-something marathon time.  I will do it, by golly.

I will run 26.2 miles in less than 3 hours.

And when I do, I’m having a big party.  You’re all invited.

Peace, love and all the running happiness in the world!

Posted by  |  December 31, 2012 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Running into Yoga

Yoga-SilhouetteIt seems so silly now to think how defiant I once was against even trying something like yoga to supplement my running habit.  To think how I secretly questioned Scott Jurek, my running idol, and his unabashed dedication to the practice seems so immature.  My prior disbelief that I could actually benefit from yoga seems, now, to go against all practical sense.

And such disbelief only existed because I thought… *GASP*… that I would look foolish.

WRONG.

Floundering in the land of what-ifs is foolish.

And so it wasn’t until I found myself injured, unable to do what I love to do, that I finally listened to all those who had advised me.  In my circle, there was no shortage of yoga proponents.  Every single one of those individuals touting the practice was sincere in his or her belief that it would help me.  How could I ignore such considerations any longer?

I found a local yoga studio, signed up for their beginner’s course and seven weeks later I’m here pondering how I ever lived without it.  As a runner, there are myriad benefits to practicing yoga (flexibility, controlled breath work, increased synovial fluid production to name a few), but what I appreciate the most are the calming, meditative principles applied through movement.  This is essentially what happens to me during a really good long run: I connect movement to the breath and allow my mind to experience the now.

Like running, yoga is a door to the present.

I’m just as susceptible as most to the infinite technocratic noises of the world, but I also know there is a way out.  I know I am happiest when I exist among the calm of the present tense.  Running gets me there.  A baseball game on a lazy, summer afternoon gets me there.

Now I know yoga gets me there too.  And even when the practice is over, I still feel like a glowing, hundred foot giant of awesome.

* * *

Injury update:

I am still out of commission, but staying active and positive.  I’ve seen a sports medicine doctor now who is sure my condition is ITBS and nothing else.  So I can only continue to do what I’m doing: stretching, icing, foam rolling, strengthening, yoga, boxing, watching Bulls basketball (despite this giving me headaches from time to time) and re-reading all my favorite Carl Sagan books.

I will not be able to run the Houston Marathon in 2013, but that’s okay.  I am at peace with that.  There will be plenty of marathons to run once I’m back to full strength.  My focus now is on getting better in time to train well for Boston.  I start physical therapy this week and aim to invoke my inner Derrick Rose as I focus on strengthening my hip flexors as well as my mind.

One thing is certain: this unscheduled time off from the sport I love so much has been as humbling as it has been healing.  The majority of my other constant niggles, aches and pains have gone away with the time off and I am confident that the forced disassociation has strengthened my mind.  When I do come back, I am going to be more hungry, more ravenous and more determined than I have ever been.

Special thanks to Lisa Kinlinger, who has provided me with excellent ART treatments as well as a final, swift kick out the door and into a yoga studio.

Posted by  |  December 9, 2012 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Evolution of an Injured Runner

Just like the beginning runner evolves into a leaner, faster, more knowledgeable athlete with time and training, so too does the injured one evolve into one who remains pleasant company despite his inward crankiness and stir-crazy circumstances.  At least, in theory he does.  Or at least he can, if his mind is in the right place.

While the last year and a half has allowed me to run injury free outside of the occasional twinge or sore spot that could be easily treated with ice and a day or two off, I now find myself at the beginning of a second week of practically no physical activity at all — part of the prescribed two week rest period ordered by my doctor in order to further heal whatever imbalance is still causing ITBS symptoms in my right leg.

I’m injured.  I can’t run.  I have no choice but to deal with it.  Though I admit, sometimes “dealing with it” can be very difficult.

In April 2011, I suffered a meniscus tear to my left knee during the Go! St. Louis Marathon and was sidelined for six long, hellish weeks.  It was my first serious injury and I didn’t know how to handle it.  Looking back, I was nothing short of a baby.  I whined.  I complained.  I pouted.  I kicked the dirt saying “woe is me, boo hoo hoo.”

Lame!

Once I got healthy and was back into training, I learned to cherish every single step I am able to take — to appreciate even the smallest of running achievements, whether it’s just getting out the door or accomplishing a major goal.  I learned that it could all go away in an instant, that nothing — even our own physical ability —  is guaranteed.  And I learned that, like sex and pizza, even when it’s bad it’s good.

Professional athletes get injured all of the time.  Derrick Rose, Jay Cutler, Desiree Davila… these are just a few of my favorite athletes who have suffered devastating injuries requiring an extended period of time off.  Davila had to drop early from the London Olympic Marathon — her dream event.  Cutler’s 2011 injury forced the Bears into one of the worst season-ending tailspins of recent memory.  And D-Rose is likely going to miss the entire 2012-13 campaign.

Devastation can be a mental consequence from injury, yes, but the human body has a marvelous way of recovering if given time and treatment.  The mind must remember this.  Shit happens, everyone can agree.  The mature, learned athlete accepts his situation and focuses his energy on doing what is necessary to get back on the field/court/road.  Perhaps even more importantly, he learns to be mindful of the negative thoughts that may try to override his patience and he takes an active approach to taming them.

Adapting to the situation is one of the most important attributes a long distance runner can have.  For me, utilizing that ability has never resulted in negative consequences during a race.  I don’t suspect it would now as I dig deep to find the patience I need to get better, so I can get back to doing what I love to do.

With that in mind and a best case scenario of 3-4 weeks to train before a two week taper, it is highly unlikely that I will be able to attempt a sub-3 hour marathon at Houston this coming January; but once healthy, I will have plenty of opportunities to go for it in the future.  Right now the best thing I can do is concentrate on getting better.  I am still able bodied and I can stay active with the types of exercise I am allowed to do.

Doing as many push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups as I can will get me the endorphin rush I so often crave.  And with it being the holidays and all, my appetite will dictate that I do a whole lot of that.

I’ll even wear a smile on my face, because like someone said a bazillion years ago (probably), this too shall pass…

🙂

Posted by  |  November 25, 2012 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Four Tenths of a Second Behind Peter Sagal: The Universal Sole Trail Challenge Race Report

Hanging out with friends from the New Leaf Ultra Runs group after the race.

For a temporarily pruned long distance junkie still unable to run much past 6 miles without any run-stopping lateral knee pain, a short, fast trail race in the city seemed to be a perfect match.  Of course, when I originally signed up for the Universal Sole Trail Challenge 5.25 mile race, I did so thinking of it more as a social event.  Several of my fellow New Leaf Ultra Runs club members signed up at the same time (as evident by our ascending numerical bib numbers) and I wanted to be a part of the action.  Homemade chili and a bountiful supply of Goose Island’s 312 beer were also calling.

Besides, who knew there were actual trail races in the city?!?

Schiller Woods on Chicago’s northwest side was the venue and the sparse city field of runners was a welcome change from the typically annoying and inappropriately overpriced short distance races that seem to get all the attention.  Hanging out at the start/finish area prior, the atmosphere was very similar to that of a small high school cross country meet, which caused me to lament not opting for my short shorts.

The race started and 148 of us took off into the woods at a blazing pace.  I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing something wrong running that fast.  The trail race setting and my association of it with ultras has always dictated a long and slow strategy, so throwing down right at the start felt like sneaking out of my house late at night when I was a teen, hoping I didn’t get caught.

Unfortunately, in the race, I was getting caught.  There seemed to be a good mix of fast, tall and lean guys at the front and I was happy to let them by me.  While my only real goal was to put in a hard effort for the entire distance, my watch told me I was maintaining between a 6:40 and 6:45 pace and I was completely at peace with that.  Knowing the race would be over very soon, I reserved to admiring the barren trees, to jumping over logs with a spartan step, to ebb and flow with the trail as best I could, like I was the trail.

About halfway through, as I was contemplating the supreme simplicity in the wide open Schiller Woods trail, a short, stocky dude crept up and passed me who, in my in-the-moment cocky opinion, did not look like a fast runner.  What the…

Oh well.  Let him go, I thought.  I’m still gonna get beer and chili at the finish.  That’s all I care about right now.

Except, I kept the dude in my sights.  I couldn’t help it.  That inherent competitive spirit I have kicked me in the ass and I was moving at its mercy.  The guy was in my sights as I twisted and turned, as I slipped (but saved a fall), as I scrambled up one of two tiny little bumps reluctantly called a “hill”.

He was in my sights and getting reeled in as I passed the little aid station not far from the finish.  And as we dumped out of the woods and back out onto open grass, I slammed on the gas, intent on catching him.  I came up short.  By four tenths of a second.

My time was 34:58, 6:40 pace, 16th place overall.  I was happy with that.

But when I found out the guy I was gunning for was Peter Sagal, I felt like I could have — should have — would have done better.  Had I known.  Or not.

Who is Peter Sagal, you ask?

Wait, wait, don’t tell me! <—- Lame but obligatory throwaway line that you will forgive me for using.  I hope.

All NPR jargon aside, I am reminded by Universal Sole’s Trail Challenge that short, fast races are fun too.  And the hangout session after with my friends was great.  As was the chili and beer.  Hopefully, someday chili and beer will be as much a staple of the post-race vibe as salt-crusted foreheads and quartered bananas.

Posted by  |  November 18, 2012 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Race Reports | Tags: , , , , , , | 7 Comments

See Me at See Glenn Run

Glenn Goodman at See Glenn Run was kind enough to interview me for his Profiles in Running series.  Stop by his blog to check it out, especially if you want to see an even better photoshop than the mustachioed bulls.

Happy Movember!

Posted by  |  November 15, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Chiro Save and a Beauty!

Crrrrrack!!!

“Holy… effing… shit,” I said to Dr. Jay, my long-time chiropractor (and now, savior), “I wish I could explain to you the type of relief I’m feeling right now.”  I lay there, face down, breathing alleviated breaths that seemed to crescendo into sweeter, livelier respirations of victory.  Finally.  Everything made sense.  Sort of.

“Yeah, even your ribs were all out of whack.” he said.

Ribs?  Back?  But my problem is ITBS… or so I thought.

In fact, the last three weeks have been as frustrating as they have been debilitating.  Laid up from my DNF at the Des Plaines River Trail 50 from what was most certainly IT band syndrome, I have spent the last 20-some days scouring the internet for anti-ITBS clues, searching frantically from one runner injury forum to the next, soliciting advice from anyone with any inkling of authority, even if his handle is RUNNERSLAVE69.

I bought a $15 compression wrap that would be better used as a headband.  I endured three intense ART sessions.  I rolled and stretched my IT band so much that I feel like I should be an inch or two taller.

But none of it seemed to do anything to help, which led to repeatedly asking myself: WHY?  WHY ME?

My hip flexors are super strong!  My gluteus medius could be used as an anatomy classroom specimen!  My quads are about as muscular as one could ever expect them to be!  SO WHY ME?  WHY NOW?  DON’T YOU KNOW I HAVE A MARATHON TO RUN IN 9 1/2 WEEKS?

It wasn’t until I was on the phone with my dad, complaining to him as best I could without turning into a complete baby, explaining how I went from being uber tough BQ runner to debilitated hobby jogger who couldn’t run 4 miles without a flaring IT band leaving him hobbled, depressed and defeated.

“First I throw out my back on the ab roller,” I told him, “then my knee locks up from ITBS, and then, because I was so frustrated with not being able to train, I went straight to the heavy bag without wrapping my hands and now I’m pretty sure I have a broken wrist.”

(Luckily, I don’t actually have a broken wrist.  Just a sore wrist.  A very, very sore wrist.)

“Wait, what did you say about your back?” Dad asked.

“I threw it out on the ab roller.  The Monday before my DNF actually.”

“Maybe that and your IT band are related.”

DING DING DING!

This is my dad. He’s a smart guy.

Why didn’t I ever think of that?  I should have known that.  I should have known that!

“Oh yes, the two are definitely related.” said Dr. Jay.  “When you strained your back, all the muscles around it tightened, pulling inwards, which pulled your hip upwards, rotating it into an abnormal position.”

With the rotated hip, the IT band got off track, and voila, after a few gentle miles I wanted to saw my own leg off.  Thankfully, I won’t need to saw my own leg off.

In fact, Doc says after another adjustment or two, I should be back to normal.  Seven to ten days should do it, which is fantastic news for humanity, considering I’ve been a moody bear without my regular training regimen to keep me centered.

But just in case I have any lingering ITB issues, I did buy some KT tape.  I plan to start using it immediately, which finally offers me a legitimate excuse to experiment with shaving my legs.

Holla!

Posted by  |  November 7, 2012 | Categories: Injury | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A Short Note on Community

Some of the New Leaf Ultra Runs crew manning the 39th Street Aid Station at the Chicago Lakefront 50K/50M Race, October 27, 2012.

Most people who know me well wouldn’t flinch at describing me as a “loner”.  I grew up with six sisters, and, as the only boy, I spent a lot of time doing my own thing.  Not much has changed.

In fact, I learned early on in life that I have a transient, vagabond spirit.  Rather than fight it, I’ve just always learned to embrace that persona, even if it means enduring losses along the way.  This default demeanor has been a comforting crutch for the hours and hours I tend to spend in my own head, running roads, traversing trail.

But this mentality does not take away from my basic human desire to be a part of something — to be a part of a community greater than any one individual.  For most of my life I’ve been wandering, looking for that elusively small section of the planet that would make me whole.

As a runner, I have finally found it.

I am a part of something — something so great and so inspirational that it makes living every day as much a joy as it is an adventure.

Pretty sweet, eh?

Posted by  |  October 28, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment