#482: Limp, Walk, Run... and Fly Just a Little

RICE: Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate

The thing that's most aggravating is that I've made this mistake before. Last year, while training the Flying Pig Marathon, I got it into my head that I was so much stronger than I had been the year previous, I no longer needed the Run, Walk, Run method helped me to finish my first marathon in Pittsburgh. A few weeks into my training, I started feeling aches and pains I wasn't used to. I immediately resumed the old intervals, and the pains went away. Well this year, when I started my 2014 reboot, I made the same stupid decision. I was going to train to run a PR in next year's Horse Capital Marathon. I had 15 months to get there, and I was going to run the whole way. So far, my longest training run has been only 4 miles, but my left knee finally let me know just how much that ambition could cost me.

It's ironic that a bone-headed macho stunt would bring me down. I'm about the least macho man you'll ever meet. A beautiful wife and mother who is a dear friend once complained about my driving saying, "You know, you're about 50% woman." Another recently told me tenderly, "I think you are much sweeter than I am." So parading manly prowess has never been my strong suit. On the other hand, ego has been my stumbling block, and my most unattractive personality trait since I was a fourth grader, singing in the youth choir in church. And it was pure ego that made me think I should be running at the same level as people a third my age, or with five times my experience. It's finally sinking in... the back of the pack is where I belong.

I knew that. And I really thought I was OK with it. But something made me want more this time. And the result was a big, frosty serving of RICE. That's the acronym for runners who get stupid. It stands for

• Rest
• Ice
• Compressing
• Elevation

It's the go-to treatment for muscle injury and inflammation. And in my case, it has kept me from training seriously for two weeks.

Ironically, the first time I noticed anything peculiar, I was in the pool, the last place in the world you would expect to have knee trouble. I was climbing out of the water on the ladder when I felt a little click, like a rubber band snapping back into place. Now, I have taken pretty strenuous water fitness classes, but mine is not one of them. We do some strength exercises, about 15 minutes of cardio, a 10 minute free-swim, then about 20 minutes of core, cool down, and flexibility training. Nobody ever comes out of there feeling like they've had their butt kicked. It's just not that kind of class. So I did what every idiot does when his body gives him a warning sign. I ignored it.

My long run that weekend was 4 miles, and it felt, well, OK. The knee complained a little, but didn't really pain me. I took some Tylenol when I got home, and didn't think about it again. I noticed it was making crackling noises when I stood up and was a little stiff if I sat in a chair for a long time to write, but again... I ignored it. Until that Monday, running with the kids at the Y.

First mistake: I skipped my recovery day. I don't remember why, but I did my weekend run on Sunday instead of Saturday. Maybe the weather. Maybe a long night on Friday. Whatever the reason, I wound up running two days in a row, breaking one of my cardinal training rules. I never run on back to back days. I just don't. And I wasn't ten steps into the run that evening when I realized I was not ready for two miles with the kids.

Three times a week, I am on the trail with a group of kids, 9-13 year olds, in a program at the Y called Run This Town. We started in late March, and will finish the spring with a 10K race in May. It's a great program that involves running, good conversation, and mentoring for a diverse bunch of kids. Some of them are highly motivated. some have learning disabilities. One or two run like they're being punished. And right around the one mile turn, I found myself right beside one of the most profoundly unmotivated boys in the group.

He's a fast kid. Plays sports at school. Loads of potential. Zero desire. His mom has been dragging him out for a couple years. And he runs, walks, or just dawdles along like he hates every minute on the trail. For some reason, at the half-way point on this day, he decided he was going to run. And I decided I would run with him. I slipped just ahead of him. My thinking was that being passed by a fat old man might tweak his pride enough to keep him going, and for a change it worked. I could hear his footsteps behind me the whole way. Every time he got closer, I would pick up my tempo a little. I knew that if I stopped to walk, he would stop and not run again. I also knew, from my long run the day before, that I could finish this mile at a good clip. No problem. And that's just what happened. I ran my fastest two miles so far this year. He cruised in right behind me. Still much slower than he could have run, but at least he kept running. I felt like I had really achieved something with him. Then I felt that little click again. And this time, it would not be ignored.

I stretched with the kids, then limped to the car. Climbed in with pain that told me something was really wrong. When I got home, the climb to my second floor apartment looked like a scene in a nursing home. I dug the blue ice packs out of the freezer, found a couple of elastic bandages in a box in the closet, wrapped up, and laid down on the couch to watch the Wildcats lose to the Huskies in the NCAA finals. A little RICE, a little wine, a little Tylenol. Everything would be fine.

The knee was still stiff in the morning, but the pool loosened it up. It ached a bit after I taught SilverSneakers CardioCircuits, but felt better than the night before. Back home. Put it up. Don't worry about it. Ran two with the kids the next night. Slow. Put in a couple of walk breaks. Classes again Thursday. Skipped my leg workout in the gym on Friday. Three with the kids on Saturday. I finally smartened up, and brought my interval timer. Would have been really smart to have had it with me right from my first run of the year. My time was better with the intervals, but the knee was really sore after. This week, I made it until Wednesday, but I just had to take the night off. There was no more denying it. I was injured. The result of overuse of the legs, and under use of the brain.

I wore a brace for class the next day. Kept the leg up. Iced it frequently.It's been feeling a little better each day, but this morning, when I stood up out of the bed, it immediately made that little popping sound that told me everything was still not all right.

Four miles to run with the kids this morning. I suppose it would have been really sensible to take another day off. But skipping the long runs, especially a month from race day, can really set your training back. And I didn't want to disappoint the kids. To be honest, I'm probably overestimating how much the kids would miss me. But, I would really miss them. So I showered, pulled on the big black brace, slipped into my lucky racing shoes, and headed for the car with a pronounced 'hitch in my gittyup."

We had a good sized group of kids today. Eight of them had managed to get out of bed in time for our 8:00 run. 48°. Gorgeous blue Kentucky skies. Just a light breeze. Perfect running weather. Three adults and Scooby the Labradoodle rounded out the team. I assigned the other two mentors to groups by speed... one for the burners, and one for the middle of the pack gang. I would be running 30 seconds and walking 30 seconds, bringing up the rear. Off we went.

The weather was fantastic. Just enough people on the trail to feel like a community, without us having to duck and dodge other, faster runners and cyclists. I started out at a pathetic, halting jog, and wondered how in the world I was going to be able to keep this up the whole way. Maybe I'd bail at the one mile point. The first walk break was heavenly, and much too short. Up ahead, the middle of the pack were pulling away quickly, leaving me and three stragglers in their wake. By the crest of the first hill, I started to close in on the straggling group, and at a half mile I caught them. Two girls and a Mom. I was surprised to see Speedy. She's the youngest, but one of the stronger runners. She had stayed back with M who was having a rough day, and Mom had kept back with the two of them, not wanting to leave them behind. Once I caught up, Mom and Speedy felt better about setting a quicker pace, and M and I brought up the rear.

M is a smart kid. Scary smart. She's voracious reader, loves the books about Percy Jackson, who is much cooler than (blech) Harry Potter. She has a terrific vocabulary and a wise-ass attitude that probably gets her into trouble now and then. She usually walks more than runs, and it's hard to tell if she's having a rough time or just being stubborn. She's a pretty willful kid. I asked if she'd like to run my intervals with me, and she shook her head. Her stomach hurt today. She had oatmeal for breakfast, and put milk on it, which she was sure was a mistake. I decided not to tell her that that was exactly what I had eaten for breakfast. We poked along for a couple of tenths of a mile, then I had an idea.

"What if we walk fast for 30 seconds, then slow for 30?"

"I love to walk fast," she perked up. "Let's do it." So, off we went. The funny thing was, that second mile was only about half a minute slower than I had been going with my run walk run intervals. After we made the turn, we did both of the final miles faster then I had started. And my knee felt surprisingly good. When we started the final quarter mile, we agreed to turn off the timer, and just walk fast the rest of the way. And then something kind of unforgettable happened.

I was a little worried about two things. First, that parents would have taken the faster kids home already, and second, that the tangerines I had brought for a post-run snack would all be gone. As we rounded the turn, and the pavillion at the Y where we assemble came into sight, we saw a crowd of brightly dressed runners heading our way, led by a small, black dog. Scooby and the gang were running our way. All of them. They were hooting, clapping, and waving.

"What are they doing?" M asked.

"They're cheering you home," I answered, proud enough to bust. "We're a team."

Kids can be pretty mean. That's what they tell me, anyway. But these kids shouted M's name, gave her high fives, danced and jogged around her, and wouldn't you know it, the whole bunch of them, including my pokey partner sprinted the last 50 yards, leaving me laughing and limping to the finish.

When we got to the picnic table where the sign-out sheet was, there were two tangerines waiting for us.

Yeah, my knee could feel better. And yeah, I may wind up walking that 10K in May instead of running it. But right now, typing by my window with the sun beaming in and my leg wrapped in ice... I sure am happy that I didn't take the morning off. Somebody asked me a couple weeks ago, "So why do you do this program? What's the point?" Well that's the point. Seven kids, running up a hill, congratulating their friend because she didn't give up. Making sure she wouldn't have to finish alone or go without a drink of water and a piece of fruit after a rough workout. Nobody coached them to do that. That's just who they are.

They're my kids.

And they're pretty damn cool.

After stretches, we circle up in the pavillion. One of them crouches in the center, while the rest reach in and join hands for our closing cheer. It's one of the highlights of my week.

"Shoes on the ground... Run This Town!"

Peace,
Pennsy

#457: Put Me In, Coach

I don't have a lot of experience in the athletic world, but this spring has taught me about one thing... there are few frustrations in life like being sidelined by an injury. Last summer it was a groin pull that kept me from running for a couple of endless months. This spring, it's a very different kind of injury, and a very different kind of game.

When I pulled my groin, I was trying to press for more speed. I tried to go faster than my body was ready to travel, and wound up with a nagging pain inside my thighs that seemed like it would never go away. When it did give me a little relief, and I would test my strength, it kept coming back, sometimes as a twinge, sometimes as a pain strong enough to double me over. It took most of the summer and fall for it to mend completely. I'm a lot more vigilant about those muscles these days. I knew that if I pressed them when they were damaged, I would make things worse. I also know now that a re-injury is more likely, and could be much harder to rehab.

Now that I am past my April of discontent, I have finally decided to bring that same mentality to healing my injured mind. It's been a hard lesson, but the people at the Y have been gently trying to convince me of its wisdom. Like a pulled muscle, an injured mind keeps you from performing. It can strike with a twinge, or with crippling agony. Rushing back into action too quickly can re-aggravate it, and make things worse than they were before.

An athlete hates the sidelines. There is a special kind of shame that comes from sitting on the bench, watching your team mates struggle without you. You want to pull on your helmet, get on the field, and hit somebody. Four days after tearfully begging my boss for time off, I was standing in his office announcing that I was ready to get back to work. I believed it, too. I knew in my heart that the worst had passed: I had had a rough couple of days, but the Kid Was Back. Put me in, Coach. Cancer Boy is ready to tear up the turf.

My heart was wrong.

What I thought was the bottom was barely the beginning. What I thought was the worst loss of my life was just the tip of the iceberg. There would be many more days to come. Many more tears. Many more pain-filled blogs about shadow and despair. And through it all, my only wish would be to get back to work. I threw myself into my training, my fundraising, anything to take my mind off the fact that LIVESTRONG at the YMCA would be starting three new classes without me. I was suffering. But I was healing, too.

Three more times I returned to my boss's office. "Put me in, Coach. I'm ready." Like a careful training staff, they would ask me questions and listen to my answers. Whatever they heard told them that I needed more time. I never tried to bluff them. I'm not sure that I could have, even if all my acting skills had been sharp. I'm not sure I wanted to. But I was becoming more aware, more mindful. Now when they told me that I should take another week, my heart knew they were right. I was still hurt. And I knew that a re-injury would be much worse than the first one.

Last week, they heard something new. I was ready to start testing myself. Not with sprints, and not by jumping right back into the game, but by stepping onto the field to see how the grass felt under my feet. I would make a speaking appearance, one I had booked many weeks ago. A director would come with me to observe and evaluate my performance. I wasn't going to be side-by-side with my team mates, not yet. But I would be out on the empty field, learning and showing just what I could do.

And so the first test was in place. I began to prepare. I didn't know that God had already scheduled my first workouts.

Out of the blue, I got the call. Coach Carrie rarely calls me on the phone. I looked at the screen and saw her name. Was she calling me back to work? Just checking in? No, she was calling with a shocker. My last remaining Coach at the Y, the last of the three amazing women who had coached my class of Eight had gotten a new job. Coach Carrie was calling to tell me she was leaving. I felt my heart catch, and my eyes start to moisten, but then my weary brain pulled itself up and did something it hadn't done in a long time... it had a rational thought. "I'm disappointed, Coach, But I'm so happy for you. It sounds like a great chance for you and your family. You have meant so much to me. And I hope you have a great time in your new gig."

There is a training technique, one Carrie never used with me, by the way, where you put an athlete into a plank position, tell them to brace their core, and then whack them with your hands or feet, as if to knock them down. The challenge is to hold your stability, even though you don't see the blows coming, and don't know how hard they are going to be. I felt God putting a foot in my side as Carrie told me about her new job, and I felt my soul brace and straighten itself back up after the blow. I was getting stronger.

Later, there was another blow. A man I respect and admire, a warrior who had never been in LIVESTRONG at the YMCA, but who had fought the Damned Thing for 12 years finished his battle this week. He had never given up his love of life. He kept acting and directing. He loved the young people who came to him for guidance and inspiration, and he gave it to them with a sweet and generous spirit. And cancer had killed him. Another loss. Another death. A few loving tears. But no collapse. I loved him, and was able to love his life more than my own pain.

Finally there came news of a young boy whom I don't remember ever meeting. He was an actor. He had lots of friends. He cared about politics and justice and freedom. And a few days ago, he chose to end his own life. Such a cruel reminder of how easy it is for someone to slip out of the safe harbor of love and into the dark waters of depression. The grieving friends and family who are left behind may be filled with confusion and anger and even guilt, but the truth is that the tide was just too strong. The lonely swimmer was pulled out to sea. My prayer is that he now knows the peace and comfort that he could not find here. The church has always called suicide a mortal, unforgivable sin. Some of us know better. I do not accept that God will punish us for falling to a fatal disease. I believe that this sad, wounded boy is resting in Jesus' arms today. Finally resting.

The Y is going to test me on Wednesday with a speech and a Q&A session in front of a room full of strangers. But God has tested me already. Not so God can learn if I am strong again, but to show me that I am. It may not have been game speed or full contact, but I have taken hits and gotten back up on my feet for the next play. I can't say that I never went down, but I promise you that I never stayed down. The Y will test me. God has already shown me that I'm ready for the test.

There are going to be other tests. Other losses. For all I know, the worst is yet to come. But I know two things. I will not face them alone. My Creator will never abandon me, and will always send loving people to help me to mend, no matter what the injury. And I also know that there is nothing that can make me give up. The ones who give up... they all die. And I am in no mood to die. I am in the mood to play.

I'm almost ready. God has sent trainers with wisdom and experience to judge my progress. It wont be much longer now. Soon, I'll be back in the dust, mixing it up. Not wanting to come back off the field.

Soon, coach. Soon.

Peace,
Pennsy

#411: Summer of Changes

“They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” ― Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol

TURN AND FACE THE STRAIN
I've been making some changes this summer. New goals. New priorities. New approaches to my own fitness. I've changed because of all the goals I achieved in the past year. And I've made a couple of changes in response to circumstances. 

Ouch!

I started the summer wanting to get faster. A six and a half hour marathon is an achievement to be sure, but it sure is a long time to run. I tried adding some speed drills into my program, and started seeing some results, but somewhere along the way, I strained some muscles in my groin and they are taking a long time to mend. It was frustrating at first, not being able to run or swim without pain, but I took the injury as a challenge. Instead of holding on to my frustration, I decided to discover what I could do. 


WALK BEFORE YOU RUN

Every Wednesday at the Y, a group of seniors gathers to walk on the Legacy trail. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed these less intense sessions, and decided to try walking instead of running. Last Saturday, while the rest of John's Striders were running the Iron Horse Half Marathon course, I joined a group of walkers who planned to cover the first half. The pace was vigorous, the conversation stimulating, and the sweat was real. By the time we finished the 6 miles, I was convinced that power walking is going to be part of my program from now on.




GET ON YOUR BIKE AND RIDE

A slightly newer model than mine,
but you get the idea.

My $25 yard sale mountain bike has been standing in the garage for several years now. It's a steel framed beauty, a 1995 Trek 800 Sport. I knew it was a waste for it to just lie there unused, and I remembered how much I enjoyed riding it to work a couple of lifetimes ago. I wondered if the less demanding requirements of cycling would be easier on my sore muscles. After pulling the old girl out of the carport, applying a little soap, a little grease, and some new tires, I discovered that I could ride quite comfortably. I now commute to work on my bike, and the extra hour of cardio every day has helped me to break through a weight plateau where I've been stuck for quite a while. I love riding and working on this machine. Mrs P blanches at all the trips to the bike shop for tools and parts, but when she sees how much I'm saving on gas, it softens the blow a little.


FINDING YODA

MUCH tougher than she looks!

Just before the marathon, I asked Coach Carrie if she would be my personal trainer and she agreed. Before we started, she asked me what my goals were.

• To run a 1 hour 10K
• To build strength in my core and upper body
• To get my Body Fat down to 20% and my weight to 240
• To pick her brain about the art of Personal Training

Coach designs each workout with these goals in mind. Since my injury, we've been focusing more on rehab than speed, giving special attention to strengthening the muscles around the hurt ones, and gently stretching to keep my legs from knotting up, (particularly my wood-like hamstrings.) Along the way she is teaching me to use a variety of apparatus like the Swiss ball, the medicine ball, weighted bars, resistance tubes, kettlebells, TRX, and the medicine ball. From time to time, when she is giving me a correction, she'll say, "When you're training someone, you have to look out for this." She is teaching me how to organize workouts and how to help a trainee progress toward their goals. I decided to make myself her apprentice. It was an excellent choice.

TELL THE STORY

I haven't been blogging much, and I don't really know why. This week, my friend Kim came back to Lexington for a visit, and thanked me for inspiring her to get fit. She's stronger, faster, and lighter than she's been in a long time. Kim told me that when she has trouble getting going, she remembers that I'm out there on the road, and it motivates her. Could any writer have a higher honor?

I resolved to be more faithful to FMR. Not to promote myself or to brag. Lord knows, my achievements aren't exactly record-breaking. But reminding people that they have the strength to keep going, to reach their goals, to exceed their hopes - that's my mission in life. I believe that's why God saved me. That's why I need to keep writing: because every now and then, someone is going to find hope in my story, and the courage to believe in themselves. What greater gift could you give to the world?

Peace,

Pennsy

My friend Charlie is running the Chicago Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon as I'm typing this. Here's wishing him good speed, light legs, and pretty young things to hand him Gatorade along the way. Rockit, brother!

#398: A Hero on the Road

I met a hero today. He noticed the shirts we were wearing for our Keeping the Dream Alive fundraiser, and stopped to talk. He told us his name was Chester, and that he had done a lot of work at Actors' Guild. He had an easy smile and a contagious laugh as he tried to remember what his last show had been. My teammates and I didn't recognize him, but we nodded politely. Turns out he was one of the "old timers:" the people who had helped to build the company years ago. I pricked up my ears. I enjoy the stories of restaurant basements and old gymnasiums that fill the company's early history. I thought he might have some great dish on one of the people I have met over the years. He had a much better story than that.

"They'd never tried anything this radical, but
they figured, why not? I was dead anyway."

Do you know what you are looking at here? This is a man's left knee and lower leg. You know how that happens? An unlicensed, uninsured, drunk driver plows through a red light and over your motorcycle as you are legally driving through a busy downtown intersection. He runs you down, trapping you and your bike under his pickup truck. He panics, and tries to run. Can't move. So he backs up, trying to dislodge whatever is hanging to his vehicle. Tries to pull away again. No dice. Tries a third time. Eventually, the driver stops trying to escape, and pieces of you are left under a truck and a motorcycle to wait for the coroner to arrive. 


"When they found me, my brains were on North Broadway, my guts were on North Broadway, and my leg was mostly torn off." Did it hurt? Nah. He was in a coma for the next four weeks. He says he died. They gave his mom 600 reasons why he should be dead. When he came to, after a month of morphine, they told him he should expect some mental retardation. Mom asked, "How would you know the difference?" Every survivor needs a wise-ass who loves him. Chester has a good one.


They had to tuck his brains back in to his head and stuff his guts back into his belly. They rebuilt his leg from scratch, drilling steel inside the soft tissue that remained. He told me he works out every day. The docs said his physical fitness was the only thing that saved him. "When I run, I look like Joe Cocker, drunk!" he jokes, but he by-God runs. He finished this morning's race just 5 minutes after I did. Just about the same time I ran the race a year ago. And I had both my own legs.

On his Facebook page, he says he harbors no negativity toward the man who almost killed him 600 ways. "All it does is eat you up and does nothing positive at all, as fear or worry, or jealousy; they are all negative emotions with no discernible value except to take you down, and not forward." Chester is a man who is moving forward.

I don't know this guy. But I really want to know him better. We "friended" today on Facebook. He is a genuine hero to me and an inspiration. It's going to be really hard to give up on my next long run when I remember a man who is training for a 10K after having himself spilled out all over a city street.


Running brings out some amazing things in people. And sometimes, amazing people come out to run. If you're lucky, you get to meet one. 


I was lucky today.


Peace,
Pennsy

#390: Groin Pulls and Other Injuries

Not Pennsy's Groin

Pulling your groin... it's always sounded a little obscene to me. I guess I was never really sure where my "groin" was. I thought of it as the general area of the crotch, as in "he got kicked in the groin. Actually, the groin muscles are part of your hip adductors. They help you close your legs. I learned this when the surgeon implanted an IVC filter through a vein in my groin. Long time readers will remember the day I had my bikini line shaved for the first time. To be honest, I haven't given my groin much thought, since then, other than the standard cleaning and maintenance that any responsible owner give to his equipment.

But on Wednesday night, I pulled my groin while swimming. I'm trying to think of a wussier sounding sentence. Swimming is the exercise we recommend to people who are old and stiff. People with arthritis can swim. People who are already injured can get into the pool, for Pete's sake. But there I was, doing the Breast Stroke, which is basically a resting stroke, when I snapped my legs together and felt a sharp, burning pain from my hip to my inner thigh. My first thought was, "Oh, so that's what a groin pull feels like." My next thought was, "This had better not screw with my running." And finally, the killer: "You wuss. You just pulled your groin SWIMMING!"

I leave it to you, Dear Reader, to contemplate the experience of treating your injured groin with ice packs.

When I was in high school, my friends Bobby and Dwight were always convincing me to "go out" for one team or another, with fairly consistent results. There was the basketball tryout where the coach pulled me off to the side and suggested I go out for wrestling. The night on in the throwing pit when I discovered I could not safely predict the direction I would be hurling the discus. There was the week of wrestling where I discovered the humiliation of trying to throw a young man who appeared to be fastened to the floor with lag bolts through his feet. Then there was the night I went out for swimming. I don't know how many miles Coach Troy made us swim that night: 12 or 15, I think. I remember being passed a lot by guys who had propellers for feet. I remember feeling like my legs were made of burning jello, and missing school the next day because I could not move any of my limbs. But mostly, I remember handing Coach my excuse for being absent. In perfect cursive, Mum had written, "Sore from swimming." He read it silently. Looked up at me. Read it aloud, softly, so as not to embarrass me, for at heart, he was a kind man. Then his eyes filled with a kind of tender pity, as if I had missed school so I could travel to San Francisco to try on prom dresses. Swimming was never really the same for me after that.

Still, when I joined the Y, the pool beckoned. I used to be a decent swimmer, and I wanted to keep my cross-training options open for the days when I wasn't running. Mrs P found me some trunks at the Goodwill, I picked up a pair of those weird goggles at Meijer, and off I went to the water. It soon became apparent that I had forgotten a great deal about swimming.

Where are those tree-huggers when you need them?

My endurance is pretty good for a fat old man. I can run for a couple of hours and require no medical attention at all. My first 25 meter length of the pool at the Y left me wondering if they would have to drag me up onto the deck to administer CPR, or if they could just do it while I lay on the bottom. My heart pounded so hard I could hear my pulse. I gasped for breath with my elbows hooked on the edge of the deck, hoping the people from Green Peace would find me in time. I could not believe I could get so tired so fast.

I've been practicing since then. Asking for advice. Watching YouTube. Studying the dolphin-like 10-year-olds who come to swim practice after school. I'm getting better. But today I have this little twinge in my groin and I don't want to aggravate it, so I'm giving it a rest. I've missed a training run, and I'm in a grump.

Which prompted me to think of other injuries I have sustained in my long and storied athletic career. Other than the sore knees I experienced when I first started running, I have had only one injury on the road. I strained both my Achilles tendons during my first 5K, which is its own funny story. I once strained a shoulder doing a bizarre exercise where you hold a medicine ball up over your head, then throw it down to the floor as hard as you can, catch it, and repeat. I've never had more than a blistered ring finger from lifting weights. And the only injury I sustained during my LIVESTRONG at the YMCA training was from doing a stretch where you lie on the floor and cross your leg over your body, twisting your hips into a sort of screw shape of which my sacroiliac joint did not approve. Then of course, there was the bout of Pickleball Shoulder I experienced recently. The less said about that, the better.

 

The upshot here is that discounting poor conditioning or male stupidity, I have never been seriously hurt while running.  I give credit for that to the techniques and philosophy of Jeff Galloway. Using walk breaks early and often has enabled me to keep going without pain or injury. An important part of this approach to training is respect for recovery days. So I want to cross-train. I want to do something besides run that will keep my metabolism cooking. It's just that all these exercise things are so dangerous. Cycling, for example, wears me out almost as fast as swimming, and involves Pennsyltucky drivers, a notoriously aggressive breed.

I'd try shuffle board... but I hear it's really hard on your knees.

Peace,

Pennsy

Keep a-goin'

It's been a strange week of highs and lows. I started out still glowing from finishing the 5K, even as my left leg became weaker and more painful. When a bruise started to form on the back of my calf, it became clear that this was more than just a charley horse.

I consulted "Dr. Google" and checked off my symptoms.

1. Sudden, painful onset
2. Loss of strength
   
3. Painful to the touch
4. Visible bruising

Yup, I strained my calf. Not badly - but you know- badly enough. I had planned to take Monday and Tuesday off from the gym anyway. As it turned out, I couldn't have gotten from the car to the locker room without help. By Wednesday I was feeling some improvement, so I decided to take one more day of rest. I stayed home from work, walked around with Molly a little, and kept the leg wrapped and elevated.

By Thursday I was jonesing so bad for exercise that my skin was crawling. I was irritable at work, losing my temper at one point and slamming both fists on my desk - very melodramatic. I had had enough of frustration. At quitting time I drove right to Promatx. I did a little time on the bike and a little on the elliptical, but cardio was not what I was aching for. (and to be honest, they both hurt my leg a little.) I hit the weights and worked my legs and lower back as hard as I could stand. I was cautious of the injury, but rather than compensating with other muscles, I concentrated on maintaining good form and taking my time.

When I had finished my workout, I was a little lost. I had done all I intended to do, but I really wasn't ready to leave. I stood by the water fountain and looked out over the machines and the faces and the mirrors. I was so damn glad to be back. After a quick sauna, I checked the scale to see how much damage I had done on that front. As I suspected, I had gained two pounds which the meter confirmed was mostly fat. I don't think missing a couple of workouts did that, but filling the idle time with food did. To be honest, I was glad it wasn't worse.

I've been stuck at this weight and body fat % for weeks now. I keep fiddling around, changing this meal, increasing the intensity of that exercise. I'm going to dig out the blender and start making smoothies this weekend. Maybe that will help me to balance my diet a little better. Now it looks like it's going to be at least another week before I can run again. My plan is to spend that time building lean muscle mass in the weight room and learning about food without eating so much of it. I still want to do the July 4 10K here in Lexington, but it's looking more and more like a walk/run than a run/walk right now.

Tonight I had another great workout. I used the resistance bands to warm up for about fifteen minutes, then hit the weight room. Chest and upper back. I love when I finish an exercise and I can feel the muscles across my chest or between my shoulder blades. It's like something coming to life in there.

Slow and Steady. I've decided to take Aesop's Tortoise as my totem. He'll be up there in the corner of the page for a while. I know I'm not a hare. No amount of work will make me one. But patience, determination, and a tough hide will get me where I'm going just the same.

KEEP A-GOIN’

Author: by Frank L. Stanton (1857-1927)

If you strike a thorn or rose,
Keep a-goin'!
If it hails or if it snows,
Keep a-goin'!
'Taint no use to sit an' whine
When the fish ain't on your line;
Bait your hook an' keep a-tryin'--
Keep a-goin'!

When the weather kills your crop,
Keep a-goin'!
Though 'tis work to reach the top,
Keep a-goin'!
S'pose you're out o' ev'ry dime,
Gittin' broke ain't any crime;
Tell the world you're feelin' prime--
Keep a-goin'!

When it looks like all is up,
Keep a-goin'!
Drain the sweetness from the cup,
Keep a-goin'!
See the wild birds on the wing,
Hear the bells that sweetly ring,
When you feel like singin', sing--
Keep a-goin'!

I have no idea why I remembered this poem just now. Reading it again, I am struck by that last stanza. "Drain the sweetness from the cup," That's good stuff. That's American stuff.

Kind of makes a Fat Man feel like singing.

Peace,
Pennsy

Time for a Day Off

I’m taking tomorrow off, but first, I have some business to attend to.

Shameless Plug

Hey, please check out the link to Step Out, the American Diabetes Association walk here in Lexington. I will walk it, may even run some of it. Diabetes has come to the house of Pennsy and I would like to see a stop put to all this nonsense. So cough up a pledge, pardner. Do it and the Fat Man will hoot your name during his historic first public walk. Maybe Mrs P can video the moment and we can figure out how to post it.

Weight Report

My weight did not change last week, still 366, but my body fat percentage is down from 33.1 to 32.8. Not much of a change, but the readings are consistent, and I am still building muscle, especially in my upper body. I hope I reach the tipping point soon and start another big fat burn. The plateau is not a fun place to hang out.

Injury Report

The ankles are improving a little after my big run on Sunday. I’ve learned that Achilles' Tendon pain is pretty common when treadmill runners go out into the real world. I have not run or trod the mill since then, but have been doing bike, steps, and elliptical to keep up my cardio conditioning. I wore elastic compression braces on my ankles today and was pain free. I am doing calf presses every time I encounter a staircase to strengthen the muscles around the Achilles. I really don’t want to see this turn into a chronic thing.

The shoulder (left) just plain hurts. I jerked it somehow during an errant Ball Slam yesterday and the Gremlin is having a field day in there. Other than rest, there’s not much for me to do with it at this point. I’m hoping a couple days off from upper body resistance training will give it a chance to heal.

Fashion Report

I bought some pants that fit yesterday! They are actually a little tighter than I would prefer, but they won’t be for long. They’re pretty ugly, but again, I won’t be this size for very long either. Just passing through the neighborhood of fat-guy pants, on my way to those groovy styles with waists below the half-century mark.

Best Laid Plans

I was going to try to repeat Sunday’s run this weekend, but I may go for something less ambitious. A mile at a reasonable pace will probably do me more good than another pokey 5K that leaves me lame for a week.

I’m also going to start moving from machines to free-weights. There are few movements the machines allow that can’t be done more effectively with dumbbells or barbells. Free weights have the added advantage of working more than one muscle group at a time. While your arms are working to execute a shoulder press, the rest of you is working to keep from tipping over. Having to control the weight with 360º of possible directions is more work than controlling weight that can only move in two. so I’ll start translating some exercises from the machine floor to the free weight floor.

I’m going to try the following program.

• Day one (Monday) - upper body, and moderate cardio (run or cross train)
• Day two - bands, and moderate cardio
• Day three - lower body, and moderate cardio
• Day four - rest.
• Day five - Bands and a long, easy run,
• Day six - long, heavy lifting, and
• Day seven - intense run (pace or endurance)

I’m going to avoid the treadmill for a while. My ankles need to learn how to cope with Mother Earth again, so I’ll try to do the bulk of my running outside.

I’m also realizing that my reluctance to track food is probably more denial than avoidance. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to get more serious about nutrition if I want to replace those last pounds of fat with muscle. If I find myself stuck in a plateau that just won’t give, I’m going to have to break down and do it. For now, I’m just trying to avoid junk and binges. “Those last few pounds” are still buried a long way down.

Peace,
Pennsy

PS>>Hey, don't forget Mother's day! (The cats want me to take them shopping tomorrow night.) Maybe we'll just pile Molly the Dog, Mo, Buddy, Kizmet, Maggie, Sniffy, and Dennis the Nervous Fish into the Honda and go out to IHoP on Sunday. Kizzie loves international cuisine. (Molly just loves farting in the car.)

Pax,
p

Fat Man, Heal thy Heel

The low grade soreness in my right Achilles tendon has lasted long enough to get my attention. it isn’t painful, just sore. Warming up usually loosens it up and it isn’t preventing me from working out, though I have had to shorten my stride considerably on the treadmill. I don’t want it to get worse, so I did some homework.

As you can see from this drawing that I found on eOrthopod.com, the Achilles tendon is really big. It attaches the calf muscles to the very short lever at the back of the heel and allows the foot to flex. If you can stand on your toes, thank Achilles. This is one butch rope of tissue.

According to Dr. Stephen Pribut, DPM (that's a foot doc for the acronymically challenged), "Soreness” in a tendon is not something to ignore or "run through". Tendons don’t get sore like muscles do. Tendons hurt when they are injured. In other words, the discomfort I'm feeling isn't the result of normal exertion like when I lift heavy weights and my muscles feel especially "present" the next day. If a tendon hurts, that's not soreness, that's pain. A painful injured Achilles tendon is something to take seriously and requires immediate attention. Otherwise it will just get worse. The tendon can even rupture (tear) and break completely leaving a runner with months of expensive rehab and NO running while the surgically repaired tissue heals. A ruptured Achilles sucks most profoundly.

Like everything else involving health and the internet, there is plenty of controversy about what to do about Achilles pain, but these seem to be consensus opinions.

LEAVE THE MACHISMO IN YOUR LOCKER
Dr Pribut's first instruction is one everyone agrees with: rest. You don’t have to stop exercising, but slow down. Ease up on things that put particular strain on the tendon: Hill running, Sprinting, Deep stretches of the calf muscles. Shoes with too soft a heel can also cause the Achilles to stretch too far after the foot's initial impact when you're running or walking. Running on your toes instead of your heels will wack you up. I think mine may be the result of too long a stride. Shortening up and taking more smaller steps is helping me. This tendon is terrifically strong because it sustains tremendous force, even during something as simple as walking. Like the cable and pulley on a weight machine, the Achilles is always under strain whenever the foot is in motion. So rule one is - go easy .

FIRE AND ICE (AND A NICE RUB DOWN)

In an article in the Jewish World Review , Marlene Cimons (who lacks an acronym, but does her homework) reports that ice after exercise and heat before bed will help control inflamation and relax the gastrocnemius which is a very impressive word for calf muscle. A non-steroidal anti-inflammatory can help - cortisone is wicked bad. Don't let the doc shoot you with it to ease the pain. Cortisone will make you feel better for a while, but it also weakens the fibers in the tendon making it even more prone to tear or rupture.

Massaging the calf can also help. Heel lifts, tape, and elastic braces can get you through the day, but still, only rest will allow the injury to heal.

CAREFUL, GENTLE STRETCHING
CoolRunning has some good stretches for prevention and maintenance for runners. When returning from an Achilles injury, wall pushups and hamstring stretches are especially important. I have had some really bad results from the towel around the foot thing. I think I actually aggravated the injury by pulling too hard. Your mileage may vary.


DON'T CROSS TRAIN AT CROSS PURPOSES

The amazingly named achillestendon.com, recommends some common sense things (stay fit, go easy, check for injury after your workout) and one really interesting one. When you do strength training and run on the same day - run first. Strength training is based on microscopic injury and healing of muscles. Running after weakening your muscles with resistance training just sets you up for further injury.

NO PAIN, NO PAIN

In a wise and funny essay called How Not to Treat and Achilles Injury by a writer named Wiltsey, this advice makes a lot of sense to me:

“Pain sucks”--This might seem obvious, but if it hurts, back off. Cut down your workout to minimal, preferably rest. Although this is anathema to most training athletes, better to miss a couple weeks than your entire season, like me.

My doctor gave me a simple rule to live by- “Let pain be your guide.” Simply, if it hurts, don’t do it and back off. A good recovery program is a must. Consult your coach, or begin with 5 minute sets of walking and every few days add thirty seconds of light jogging.

Achilles pain is really easy to fix unless you get stupid. Then it's really easy to make really really bad. Take it seriously and take it easy until it gets better.

That's what I learned in school today..

WORKOUT UPDATE
My big meeting concluded on Thursday and I went straight to the gym. I had a lot of steam to blow off.

I did a light warm up on the treadmill, then spent a long time stretching. I’m not noticing any increase in flexibility yet - but I am definitely feeling a much shorter recovery time so I can tell that stretching after warmups and after the workout itself is making a difference.

I worked out with the resistance bands and really tried to hold my form while going as fast as I could, snapping each rep against the resistance of the band. It still feels ridiculous when I do it, but my doubts all disappear the next day when my body lets me know that the exercises have done their work. I’m going to do a session with machines and some free weights on Saturday to measure my progress and keep my chops up.

And I guess I better spend some more time on the elliptical for a while.

Peace,
Pennsy

Aches and Pains

I turned into the grumpy old fat man today but can't remember why. Someone slipped me a roofie and beat my legs with pipes at lunch time. The knees were stiff and the right ankle had a strange tightness in the Achilles' tendon. I had planned to just work upper body today, with light jogging after.

A whole day of work didn’t seem to achieve anything. The upside of all that frustration is that I usually set new personal bests on the weights, today I improved my curls, flies, and shoulder press.

I stretched after lifting and hit the treadmill- walked/ran quarter-mile intervals for two miles. The ankle felt gradually better as I warmed up -- It actually felt easier to run than to walk . When I was done though, I could tell that I had been favoring my right leg. My left knee is hurting, my mysterious right ankle hurts, my old right knee thing is better, but just wanted to join in to be sociable. a sauna and a shower made my head feel better, but not my creaking joints.

Much as I hate to, I am going to back off the running for a while. Walking and the elliptical are going to have to be my cardio workouts until I lose some serious pounds.

I sure feel good from the waist up, but man I could use a soak in a jacuzzi.

Peace,
b

The Angry Red Monster "down there"

It had to happen sooner or later. In the aftermath of yesterday's run, I discovered that angry red monster between my legs -- no not that, you cheeky monkey -- I mean chafing thighs.

I immediately flashed back to attempts to run in high school and college. Inevitably, this it what sent me back to the La-Z-Boy. It aggravates two of my key fears - being fat, and getting hurt while exercising. I don't think it qualifies as an injury per-se, but it will definitely knock me out of the game if it gets much worse. Given my size and my genes, I expect this is always going to be an issue for me, so I did some research. Powders and Vaseline are both recommended to prevent rubbing, but my experience with powder is that I sweat it off, and vaseline just seems to make my thighs sticky. This results in more friction and a sort of deep fryer effect. There are lots of home recipies that people like, but the one I see the most is a combination of 1) Spandex compression shorts and 2) Body Glide, a fearfully expensive product that an awful lot of runners swear by. It turns out that this isn't just a fat man's problem.

I managed to find one source for giant spandex shorts (now there's a phrase that shouldn't be spoken out loud) so I'm going to try that combination. (Another $35 investment - I guess that makes up for the bargain I got on my shoes). I don't plan another long trot until next weekend, so I'll have time to heal (I'm trying triple antibiotic ointment which is Mrs P's panacea, and some time on the elliptical until the swelling goes down.

I'm doing several things wrong "down there" as it turns out. cotton shorts are a bad plan for a big sweater because they get wet and stay wet, making them rub all the more. Some folks even get chafed, bleeding nipples (pause for my head to stop spinning) when they run in cotton tee shirts. Baggy shorts make things worst, because they rub, and they ride up your leg. Also, boxers may let the boys swing free in the breeze, but they also let them rub against the thigh, creating even more friction, chafing where no man should ever chafe, and in the worst case I care to think about, causing a hideous condition called testicular torsion which sounds like something that happens when you sit on an electric drill. I'll be switching to something a bit less cottony and more snuggly at once.

Oh and I have a great fitness tip for travelers. Don't do a long run, then sit in a car for four hours. Mrs P and I had to take a trip to Southern KY yesterday after the gym, and by the time I got back home, my knees felt like they were full of broken glass. I'm thinking that a long run followed by cramped stillness in the passenger seat of a Malibu is a really bad combination.

I slathered on the Ben-Gay, but the pain still kept me up most of the night.

Today's workout will focus on the upper-body, I think.

Peace,
Pennsy

Recovering from Runner's Knee - One Expert at at Time

It’s been a while since I have taken the time to post. That usually means I’ve been goofing off, but not this week. I made it to the gym six out of the last seven days, which has been my plan all along. I’ve actually been spending a lot of time researching runner’s knee.

Sports medicine turns out to be a lot like nutrition -anybody with a keyboard and an internet account can be an expert. I have read every possible variation on how to treat this injury, from ice to heat, from compression bandages to surgery. The one that finally made the most sense to me was Dr. Lewis G. Maharam on Runner's World. (It is me, or does The Running Doc look like he could be Christopher Hitchens' sober younger brother?) Basically he says, “Look, your knee hurts because the muscles around it aren’t strong enough yet. Until you fix that, you will just keep hurting your knees. Here are some exercises that will help you make them stronger.”

I know -- just another expert. But this one made even more sense than the last one who seemed to make sense so I gave his treatment a try. I also started stretching for a good long time before and after my workout, and slathered the old Ben-gay® on quite liberally.

The aroma does not make me particularly popular on the gym floor, but the cure is working. I have decreased my range of motion on both the leg presses and extensions to focus on the quads without grinding my knee cap any further. I’m also spending a lot of time stretching the hamstrings and the groin. Stretching the quads will have to wait until the knee is better, unless someone can suggest a way to stretch your quads without bending your knee.

I’ve also put the ice pack back in the freezer. It may be that it’s done all it was going to do, or it may be that it was just making the joint stiff, I don’t know. What I do know is that knee feels better when I get home, and feels almost fine when I wake up in the morning.

I may keep the little knee strap for a while. (Pennsy's knees are - well - meatier.) It’s kind of a mental crutch and Mrs P thinks it makes me look sexy.

And that, as they say in the Visa Commercials, is priceless.

The last two days, I’ve tried splitting my workouts, upper body one day and lower body the next, with half an hour of cardio after. I don’t exactly have a program yet, but at least I have a plan.

I have snuck a peek or two at the scale this week, and it looks like the lighter workouts are going to show up at my weigh-in tomorrow. I would rather not slow down the weight loss, but I thought it made sense to slow down and get the knee back in shape. I really want to be up and running soon, but I want to be ready.

Peace,
Pennsy

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. –George Bernard Shaw

( Is it me, or does GBS look like he could be SC's older drunken brother?)

Running in the Dark

Fat and depression have been my companions all my life. I am determined to part ways with both of them, but they are stubborn bedfellows.

I’m bummed this morning. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up this time.

I’m not sure I would call last night a work out. I was scheduled for a cardio day, but couldn't really get it going on any of the machines. I started on the recumbent bike, but after about 10 minutes the knee felt a little weird, so I decided to try something else.

I’ve never tried the stair climber before. It seemed like an exercise with very little pounding, so I checked it out. I made it about 2 minutes. Not because my knee hurt, but because it is one mother of a workout for a fat man. I decided to try something else.

The treadmill was a washout. I did about 15 minutes at 3mph. My heart rate never got above 108. I guess that’s a good thing. That’s what my heart rate was the first time I stepped on the treadmill after walking to it from the locker room. Still, it felt more like a good sweat than a good walk.

The elliptical was my last choice and turned out to be my best effort. I did 10 minutes and finally got my heart up to 131 bpm. Then I bailed.

I had intended to take a yoga class last night, but my “warm up” had taken all the wind out of my sails. The depression that exercise has been battling down rose up and grabbed the back of my shirt. I changed my shoes and came home.

The knee isn’t painful, not really. I don’t limp or anything, but the threat of injury has triggered a real fear that I will get hurt and give up. Irrational? Sure, but depression isn’t a rational disease. I’m not at the stay in bed with the covers over my head stage - haven’t been there for years - but I am in a pretty dark place right not. The place where Mrs P asks “Are you mad at me?”

When I left the gym last night, I decided to take today off. That decision was what put my emotional state over the edge, I think. I may go in and do a light weight workout, just to keep the wolves in my head away from the door of my heart.

Peace,
Pennsy

Post Script: right after I finished this post, I went to my Google Reader to look for a reason to lighten up.

It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over. - Edna St Vincent Milay

Sometimes just knowing that you're not alone is comfort enough.
pax
p

Taking It Easy

I have a little puffiness in my right knee. (Pennsy's is hairier). I did some research and found out that it’s pretty common. I’m treating it with RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation. I'm also trying glucosamine instead of aspirin, ibuprofen, acete... Tylenol, and other hard to spell anti-inflammatory drugs. No more running for a while.

My last couple of sessions on the treadmill have been pretty intense, and I guess I overdid it. Not to worry. I can keep my leg up when I’m home, and find other ways to do my cardio at the gym.

I was also feeling kind of sore from my last session with the weights (what a crybaby). I decided to try something different. I used very light weight on each exercise, 60 to 70 percent of what I’ve been doing. I went down to 12 reps, but added a fourth set. I also really focused on keeping my technique perfect by performing each rep very slowly. It took a long time, but It still felt like a workout. I was especially careful with the leg extensions, curls, and squats. I want to strengthen the muscles around the knee without doing any more harm. I don’t want to get hurt badly enough that I have to stay home for an extended period. I missed enough time in the gym with all the business travel I did in March.

Actually, taking it easy in the gym gives me a chance to focus on my diet. I am eating much better than I’m used to, but I’m still far from perfect. I don’t want to start counting calories - the days are just too short - but there are some things I would definitely like to clean up. The last thing I want is for my weight to go back up. That would so suck.

There is a yoga class tonight. I have been wanting to do some work on flexibility. This might be a good opportunity to start learning some exercises that don’t require all that iron. I’ll see how the knee feels after a day of sitting at my desk.

Peace,
Pennsy

A Swoosh in my Step

I went out yesterday to visit our super running shop here in Lexington. The people are smart and fun and I don’t think I have ever heard a negative word about them.

I went shoe shopping - which Mrs P likes far more than I - because in my research I learned that my black and blue toe nails indicate a condition called runners toe and are caused by wearing shoes that are too short. Once your toe nail falls off, you’re pretty much grounded, so off to the store I went.

The man there poked the end of my gym shoes to confirm that they were too short. then he put me on one of those old fashioned foot sizing gizmos with the sliders and all. My big old feet are now size 13 1/2. Talk about middle age spread.

He also observed that my arches are very high, which will make my foot tend to roll out when I run - supination it’s called. He went down to the basement and brought up three pairs of size 14E running shoes for me to try on. They all felt fine to me. I told him that since I had no real favorite, I would just take the cheapest pair. He then told me that the New Balance were full price, but that the two pairs of Nikes were last year’s models left over from the year end clearance sale because they are so BIG. So I wound up getting two pairs of Nikes for less that what the New Balance pair would have cost.

Mrs P loves finding a bargain and she was very proud of me! And a little turned on, I think.

Tonight I walked/ran on the treadmill - 4 miles in 52 minutes - faster than ever. I’m looking forward to spring. I like what’s happening to my body and my mind, and I want to take them both out in the fresh air for a spin.

Peace,
Pennsy

The Fat Man Rides Again!!

Saturday I got really depressed about not being able to work out. My beloved Mrs P held my hand, wiped my face, and then took me out to the Indian buffet. Nothing lifts a mopey boy's spirits like a good woman's love and all the curry he can eat.

I slept my blues away and on Sunday made my first trip to the gym since the big slip. My toe hurt to bend, but had stopped throbbing. I didn't want to put any stress on it, so I didn't lift weights. That left walking, but I could not imagine the cardio benefit of limping on a treadmill. The elliptical machine remained a mystery to my feet, so I decided to try the recumbent bike.

I figured out how to move the seat and checked out the console. All the trails and mountains and whatnot made no sense to me. How can you talk about miles on a bike that stands still? I finally settled on a program called "cardio" and put Meat Loaf on my headphones. Before I knew it, I was pedaling like a bat out of, well, you know. I spun the pedals for an hour while the console coached "Keep Pedaling!-----Need Heart Rate!---Grab Handles!----Who's Your Daddy?" It was a little weird.

The program adjusts resistance to keep your heart rate at the training level you set, so it has to monitor your pulse constantly. I was surprised at what a good workout it turned out to be. I was not surprised that I could barely move when I was done. I stretched, finished my water, and made my way to the locker room. When I took of my sock, I was shocked. My toe looked like a plum. The bruise went from the joint almost up to the nail and more than three-quarters of the way around my toe. Forgive me, but I've decided to spare you photos.

Monday the bruise had faded, but was still pretty ugly. I made it through the work day without it feeling any worse, and by evening, the bruise was a much less angry color. I went to bed early and decided to try once again to wake up and go to the gym early Tuesday morning.

For some reason, the alarm woke me. Usually I just give it a well intentioned wack on the snooze button, then go back to sleep. Instead I tip-toed out of the bed and made my way to the car. There were a LOT of people at the gym at 6:00! I changed and found an empty bike. This time I had a chance to look around a little. There were not many familiar faces, but plenty of very determined ones. I am continually amazed and inspired by the way the people around me work. I got a chance to really watch some people on elliptical machines and started to make sense of what their legs were doing. Of course, you don't really want to spend too much time watching people at the gym. You start to feel like a stalker.

Work was just painful. The toe was ok, but the legs were screaming. Turns out I still haven't reached that magic place where a workout gives you more energy. The funny thing was, by mid afternoon, I was really jonesing to get back. I went right after work, and lifted weights for the first time in a week. I stepped down the reps and stepped up the weights on all the machines. I also tried the elliptical for a cool-down. It went pretty well, and I felt like I really started getting the hang of it.

This morning I did not go to the gym early, but I felt GREAT all day. Maybe that energy boost is on a delay? After work, I did an hour on the elliptical. I used the "Cardio" program and yes, it was a real workout. On both the bike and the elliptical I could feel different muscles working - especially after I was done.

Right now, I should be in bed, but I'm so happy to be back to work. I just wanted to let you know.

The heart, the mind, and the toe are all bruised but unbroken -- and the healing goes on.

Peace,
Pennsy

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!

OK, my biggest concern with working out is that I will injure myself and

1. Be unable to exercise, or
2. Get frustrated and give up.

Well, Mrs P and I are both hurt, but it has nothing to do with the gym.

The Bluegrass is experiencing a fearful kind of winter weather today - ice with no snow. it has been raining since yesterday afternoon with the temperature hovering around freezing. The good new is that it may be slowing down. The bad new is that walking around is downright perilous. We have both fallen on the ice while trying to get Molly outside. Mrs P whacked her arm and has a nasty raspberry on her hand. I sprained, but am pretty sure I did not break my big toe. Not that we could get to the gym anyway - but it looks like I'm going to be relegated to the weight room and she may be stuck on the exercise bike (her preferred cardio workout.)

On the other hand, I'm giving credit for our relatively minor injuries to the stretching and strengthening we've been doing. It could have been a lot worse.

God bless the folks who have to be outside today. Roads are pretty clear, but everything between the road and the building is a slippery dance.

We're getting ready to limp out the the car and go to work. Everybody be careful out there!

Peace,
Pennsy