A spoonful of masochism

It's been a punishing few days at work. First, the HiLite website went down on Friday, the same day the paper came out. Then, I faced the ire of some upset readers after they read a particularly sensitive staff editorial. What's interesting is I had control over none of this. The staff's Web team is in charge of the nuts and bolts of the site and the staff editorial was decided upon and written by the student editorial board. Regardless, as the adviser of the newspaper, I'm in a unique position; I'm directly responsible for nothing yet I'm indirectly responsible for everything. And as a visible first line of defense, I often get to feel the brunt of the scrutiny that is an inevitable part of the job.

But rather than lashing out at others, I responded this weekend with a bit of self-punishment in the form of some pretty serious workouts. I've responded this way for a long time. My earliest memory of "therapy via exercise" was in early college after my girlfriend of two and a half years and I broke up. I was devastated to be sure, but rather than wallow in my misery, I hit the gym. There was something about pushing my body to its physical limits that allowed me to clear my head and mellow the pain and inner turmoil I was feeling. I would come out on the other side of those workouts tired, drenched in sweat, often unable to lift my arms above my head, but somehow feeling better than when I went in.

Since those early days, I've found a true therapeutic benefit to exercise. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not suggesting that I somehow damage myself or my health via these bouts of exercise. Rather, I use the inner pain or confusion as motivation to push myself externally. And when I emerge on the other side, it's a sense of renewal I feel. It's a feeling that's akin, I imagine, to a Native American who completes a vision quest, albeit without all the peyote or the near-death experiences.

It's always been difficult for me to admit when situations are beyond my control. I understand that concept, but I don't embrace it, and as that sage Tom Petty sang, it's the waiting that's the hardest part—the waiting for the situation to resolve itself, the waiting for the reaction that I know will come, the waiting for a time when I won't think about the problem during every waking minute. So I find activities to fill that time. Exercise seems the logical choice, and it's rarely failed me.

This weekend was no exception. After a 10-mile run yesterday and a one-hour weight workout followed by a five-mile run today, I came home to find that the website's back online and the sponsor of the club who was upset over the editorial e-mailed me to let me know, while she still doesn't agree with the viewpoint, she understands the process and the students' right to publish that opinion.

And I feel better. While the problems in my life won't ever stop or completely go away, it's good to know I've found a way to cope—a healthy way, that is. While I can't control every situation, I can control how I respond to those situations.

Happy running.

The soundtrack of my life

For years, Saturdays have traditionally been my "long" days for running. I look forward all week to a few free hours when I can escape from the world to let the wind blow through my hair—or, well, buffet my bald head at least.

Still, when the big day arrives, it's difficult to get past the inevitable monotony of it all. No matter how much I like being by myself with my thoughts (see previous posts), 10 miles or more on the road or the treadmill is a long time to listen, even to the dulcet tones of my own inner voice. Which is why I have embraced the advent of the personal music device.

Back in high school I carried, by today's standards, what would be considered a giant Walkman tape player. It was good, but its limitations of only allowing for one tape at a time soon became evident. That device was soon replaced with a set of radio headphones that gave more music options, if only you could push through the steady stream of commercials or manage to tilt your head just so to avoid frequent interruptions of static.

But regardless of limitations, I was hooked by the thought of carrying my music library wherever I went. In fact, I would argue that the mp3 player is one of the most significant inventions for today's distance runner. Since those early days I've owned a litany of music devices, most of them from the iPod collection. They all work well to some extent, but prolific sweat and occasional drops on the pavement give my mp3 players a rather short shelf life.

Except for one, that is. Originally, the mp3 player I still carry was a gift for my wife. It's one of the first generation iPod Shuffles, the white kind that's about the size of a pack of gum. I gave it to her when our second son was born about four and a half years ago. It remained in the box long enough for me to realize that, while it was a good gift, it wasn't going to be part of my wife's exercise regimen. So I inherited it, and I have used it ever since.

Which leads me back to my original discussion about my Saturday long runs. It seems no matter how many songs I can put on my iPod, by Mile 6 or 7 they all seem boring and worn out. Motivational songs that work during the week no longer have their same luster. My solution is to save songs back. About every third week, I open iTunes and "rediscover" my music library. I find songs I haven't heard in months or years, and I put them on my iPod, replacing those old tunes that no longer work. It's a plan that seems to do the trick. I've never run out of inspirational songs, one reason being that by the time I'm done with the current tunes on my iPod, I've had the old ones off for so long I'm able to rediscover them. It's recycling at its best.

Something I've learned over the years is even the best runners find it difficult to get motivated from time to time. Trust me, I've been there more times than I'd like to count. But as a music lover, this is a solution that works for me. It's an opportunity for "me" time where I can listen to my music as loud as I want, and no one's there to judge or tell me to turn it down or turn it off.

I have read articles from runners who bemoan the advent of the music player, saying it takes away from the beauty and serenity of nature. While I can see their point, it doesn't prevent me from carrying my iPod wherever I go, for while there certainly is serenity and peace in nature, I've sort of grown used to seeing that same nature with my own personal soundtrack. While at times the two may be incongruent, there are moments, albeit fleeting moments, when the scenery and the song match together beautifully, when the music helps me transcend my body and my thoughts and takes me to another plane. It's those moments that I grasp hold of like a barnacle on a boat bottom. It's those moments that keep me coming back for more.

Happy running.

Live life to the fullest

As I reel from today's underwhelming announcement of the new Apple iPad (Really, Steve Jobs? The iPad? Seriously?), I am drawn to areas that make me feel better — not the least of which is running. And this provides me with an opportunity to discuss Reason #436 (these are in no particular order) of why I like running: To help me live a fuller life.

This information should come as no surprise to anyone, but, as it turns out, keeping fit is even better than doctors first thought. On Jan. 26, Time magazine reported the following: "Now a series of independently conducted studies on the effects of exercise in healthy older adults, published on Monday in the Archives of Internal Medicine, confirms that logging time at the gym not only helps maintain good health but may even prevent the onset of chronic diseases, such as heart disease, osteoarthritis and dementia." (Read the full article HERE).

I'll be perfectly honest and confess that old age scares the crap out of me and I want to do everything I can to stave off its effects. I don't want to spend my retirement in a chair or a bed, unable to live independently, unable to recognize my loved ones. So I do what I can to keep those potential problems at bay. I understand, of course, that old age is inevitable, as I understand that with old age comes certain inevitable "deteriorations," for lack of a better term. Still, I refuse to go gently into that good night, to borrow from poet Dylan Thomas.

But these studies give me hope. As I near 40, I am encouraged by my own level of fitness. I am heartened as well by the numbers of older runners who fill the starting lines of races I run (and who kick my butt, too).

But what also gives me hope are words from older, wiser runners than me. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I've been reading Haruki Murakami's book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Here's a man who's nearing 60 who runs more now than he ever did when he was younger. Murakami puts it better than me. "Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest," he writes. "If you're going to while away the years, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog...Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life...I believe many runners would agree."

Yes we do, Mr. Murakami. Yes. We. Do.

Happy running.

Talking about running with one who knows

I've been waiting all day to share this. I'm in the midst of a new favorite book: Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. A novelist and long-distance runner, Murakami writes less about how to run and more about how to live life. Nearing 60 and with 30+ years of running under his belt, the man has my ear. His writing puts voice to what I've tried for so long to explain to those who don't understand my strange (dare I say insane?) desire to run.

Consider this excerpt, for example: "I'm the kind of person who likes to be by myself. To put a finer point on it, I'm the type of person who doesn't find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone...to be neither difficult nor boring."

And this: "When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody and don't have to listen to anybody. All I need to do is gaze at the scenery passing by. This is the part of my day I can't do without."

For Murakami, and for me, running is almost zen-like. "No matter how mundane some action might appear," he writes, "keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act."

The world got you down? Try this: "When I'm criticized unjustly, or when someone I'm sure will understand me doesn't, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it's like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realize how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points."

Murakami seems to speak directly to me, or through me. He is wise, this man. Then again, perhaps he was destined to write as he was to run. After all, he writes, "People basically become runners because they're meant to."

A wise man, indeed.

Happy reading, and happy running.

Best laid plans

I had every intention of getting up this morning to just crush a long run. I've had a good weekend so far — 5 miles Friday night followed by a quick 5-miler outside yesterday.

But now, once again, the unpredictability of life has gotten in the way.

I planned to awaken early before everyone got up to hit the country roads just beyond my neighborhood — a nice hour out and an hour back — but the sound of hard rain and strong wind gusts at my bedroom window scuttled my plans. Fine, I thought, I'll sleep a bit longer and hit the gym. Foiled again, this time by a promise I remembered I gave my son to go to the bookstore so he could spend the gift certificate that's been burning a hole in his pocket since Christmas.

So I'll go after the bookstore, right? Wrong. Damn those cursed Indianapolis Colts and their 3 p.m. game and my neighbor with his brand new 62-inch HDTV twisting my arm (okay, he didn't have to twist all that hard).

And after the game? Maybe. But by then it'll be dark, the gym will be closing and I won't be able to get in much more than three miles or so. Plus the fact that my wife will have been with the kids the whole time I'll be watching the game.

And so the day has slipped away before it has even begun.

At least I've found time to blog.

Happy running.

The mind matters

What do you visualize to get pumped up during a run?

I ask because I think my visualization's kind of silly, but it does the trick. When I'm getting worn down in the middle of a long distance, I imagine it's the end of the Olympic marathon. I'm the underdog. Everyone's counted me out. The favorite enters the Olympic stadium for the last lap and a half of the 26.2—you know, the "victory lap" portion of the race. There's a polite cheer. He gets the first 100 under his belt and he starts to round the first turn.

Then there's a roar as I burst through the tunnel. My eyes are focused. I'm breathing hard.

And I am haulin' ass.

It's about here that I tee up my favorite kick-ass tune. (My faves are "Fever Dream" from the "300" soundtrack and "Guns" from "The Rundown." Check 'em out on iTunes and you'll see what I'm talking about.)

My pace gets faster. The favorite, he hears the cheer and he looks back at me. At first he's dismissive—he's so far ahead—but then he sees that I'm gaining on him. He tries to go faster but it's not happening. I'm too quick. His lead dwindles...quickly. Just before the last turn, we're about 20 yards apart. By the end of the turn, I'm breathing down his neck. The finish line looms in front of us. The crowd's going nuts. We're neck and neck, trading the lead.

And then, right near the end, I look over at him. He looks at me. His eyes are wide. He's giving everything he's got and he knows I know it.

That's when I smile, find another gear...and win the race.

Told you it was silly, but it works.

So what say you, blogosphere? What do you visualize? I'd love to hear it.

Happy running.

Hello, outside, my old friend

For those of you who have slacked a bit on resolutions to get in shape, note that this marks the beginning of a three-day weekend, and that presents a new opportunity to ramp up efforts to get, and stay, fit.

That being said, it's amazing the rejuvenating power of the great outdoors.

Today was my first day running outside for...well...I can't tell you how long. It was still a bit chilly, a bit damp, a bit foggy—"fuzzy," a friend's daughter once called it—but the roads were clear. Finally. After five miles on the treadmill last night, I didn't think I could take another day of staring at my reflection in the window. So I laced up and headed outside.

It was glorious. All of the stars had aligned, it seemed, to allow me the perfect running conditions. I had dressed perfectly—shorts, a Dri-Fit undershirt, a long-sleeve shirt over that, gloves, a headband to keep my ears warm. I used my new Ironman watch, a Christmas gift, to keep mile splits. The music on my iPod kept hitting the right tunes at the right time (a little Paul Oakenfold, a little Prodigy, a whole lot of Girl Talk)...

...and I flew. Or I felt like I was flying at least. The miles ticked by and I got stronger. I kept track (thanks to the watch): Mile 1—8:30, Mile 2—8:27, Mile 3—8:25. And so on. Mile after mile.

I had planned to run six or seven miles. In the end, I ran 10. My time on that last mile? 8:00.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow, but I'm not planning to let that deter me. I've gotten a taste of the great outdoors. And I'm hungry for more.

Happy running.

Time is not on my side

Until tonight, I haven't run since this past Saturday.

And that's a problem.

I'd like to run more and I have good intentions. See, I like to research various workout plans to find ways to improve my performance. Just yesterday, for example, I printed off a 10-week half-marathon training regimen, and it looked great. It looked do-able.

Only it wasn't. The problem? I can't run six (or even five) days per week. I'd like to (Heck, I'd like to run every day if I could, though I know that's not healthy), but it's a logistical impossibility. The reasons are myriad. First, it's winter, and that means it stays dark until after I've already arrived at work and gets dark again about an hour after I come home. Second, I have young children. It's not like I can leave them home alone while I scratch my running itch. Third, life gets in the way. Just last night, for example, I didn't get home from school until 8 p.m. so I could participate in the eighth grade academic night. Early morning workouts aren't an option either. I already get up at 5:45 a.m. just so I can get to work on time, which means I'd have to get up at 4:30 in order to get anything meaningful done; plus, the roads are still dark and snowy—not very safe this time of year.

All of that means my running is sporadic at best. I know it's important to find time to work out, and trust me when I say motivation isn't the problem. But who has the time? I can't believe I'm alone in this, which is why it's all the more frustrating when I see running "gurus" provide workout plans as if they don't have a care in the world. Don't they have families? Jobs? Lives? Does anyone have a plan for a busy working dad? If you do, I'd love to see it.

There may be hope, though. My neighbor works at my gym. He suggested the other day that I could stay after hours to work out while he cleans up the place. He's there anyway, he said, and there are a few other guys who stay, too. That might be a solution. I could go after my kids are in bed and still have enough time to get in a decent-sized run. It'd mean I wouldn't be home and showered until 11 p.m. or so, but it beats doing nothing. There are worse ways to spend an evening and it would beat skipping three days between runs.

Happy running.

Karma's a, well, you know

I'm too competitive for my own good.

I like to think I'm in shape. When I get on the treadmill at the gym, I like to believe I can hang with the people around me. I either keep my pace faster or, if I'm next to some young buck who starts off on a six-minute-mile pace, I run farther. For that latter scenario, it's a tortoise and the hare mentality: That fast kid usually gives up after a mile or two while I'm still pushing forward.

Not so today. Guy next to me started off at an 8.0 (7:30 mile). Me? 7.0. So I started ramping up the pace. By mile 2, I was at 7.5. Dude next to me? 8.2. I began to envision me racing with this guy, his silhouette fading quickly out of sight while I labored along getting farther and farther behind.

I upped the treadmill to 7.7—a 7:45-mile pace—and held on. Surely this guy would be stopping soon. Surely if I couldn't outpace him, I could outlast him.

But alas, I couldn't keep up. After five miles, I had to stop. Dude? Still going strong. I stepped off the treadmill, wiped it down and headed over to the weights, disheartened. Twenty minutes later, my treadmill neighbor finished his workout. He headed over to the lockers at the back of the gym to get his jacket. On the back, there was a logo: "Boston Athletic Association: 113th Annual Boston Marathon. April 20, 2009."

So much for complaining about resolution runners in my previous post. That's karma for you.

Happy running.

Sign me up...or in...or something

I want a sign for the gym. Something like a get-out-of-jail-free card in Monopoly. It would say, "I have been a runner since (year) and a member of this gym since (date)." The sign would allow me to bypass the "resolution crowd" and actually get on a treadmill during the next couple of months. It would be the equivalent of getting to the front of the line at a fancy club:

"Ah, Mr. Streisel. Good to see you, sir."

"My usual treadmill, Paul?"

"But of course, sir. Right this way, sir."

Not that I have anything against the resolution crowd. Good for you, I say. Way to get motivated. Way to set some positive goals this new year.

But I write this because two days ago I got stuck in the resolution crowd rut. Contrast the gym population on a Tuesday before Christmas at around 6 p.m. (about 10 people) to the population this past Tuesday at the same time (about 60 people). There were lines everywhere—lines for the treadmills, lines for the weight machines, lines for the bathroom (not really). I had to bypass the treadmill and hit the elliptical machine. It was a decent workout, but it was no run.

So I tried a different strategy tonight. I waited until 8 to go to work out. It was a good idea. There were plenty of treadmills available; I was even able to run a full hour (seven miles).

Still, I'd like to exercise a bit earlier. Looks like that won't happen for a while, though, and that's frustrating.

Which is why I want a sign. Either that or I'll wait until the resolution crowd goes away...I figure by Feb. 20 I'll be good to go.

Happy running.

The Great Outdoors

Am I the only person who dreams about running just about everywhere I go?

I was driving to Ohio a couple of days ago with my family, and along the interstate were all of these big copses of trees. Some of these mini-forests seemed pretty extensive. And while it was a prohibitive 13 degrees outside, I couldn't keep my mind from saying in a not-so-quiet way, "I wonder what it'd be like to run in there?"

I do that all the time. For example, on New Years Day (after the OSU Rose Bowl victory, of course—Go Bucks!) I watched the premier of the HGTV Dream Home. This year the home is just outside of Santa Fe, NM. It's a nice house, full of all sorts of lovely furnishings and comfortable seating areas, but all I could think about was the outside. With all of that desert-y scrub plus all of the craggy, lunar-surface-looking rocks, I thought it looked like a tremendous place to get in a few miles. In fact, during the show, there was one split-second glance of a guy running out there in that wilderness, and I thought, "That could be me." I've registered to win the house each day since the contest opened.

When I was on my cruise to the Bahamas in early December, we were unable to make our Sunday port of call because the water was too choppy, so we were stuck on board the ship. That whole day I could've kicked myself for not bringing my running gear (I was supposed to be "relaxing"). I just felt like a good few miles would've made the whole day a bit brighter.

When I fly over mountainous areas. When I drive past a great looking trail. When I see a magazine picture of an amazing sunset. All I think about is running there. I wonder how many miles I could get in. I wonder what I'd see. I wonder how lost I could get before I find my way out.

My next trip will take me to Portland, OR. I've never been to the Pacific Northwest, but I've seen pictures.

It looks like a great place to run.

Happy runnning.

Treadmill trials and tribulations

I have a love/hate relationship with the treadmill. I love the results. I love not having to run in 8 degree weather or packed snow, but I hate feeling like a hamster in a wheel. I hate how much I sweat. I hate staring out the same window at the same boring parking lot for hours at a time.

So I play mind games to get through the workouts. Today was no exception. The first game I play is to see how far I can get before I start sweating profusely. Can I make it a mile? More? Today's distance was officially 1.14 miles. After that, you don't want to run near me (or else you should wear a poncho).

Game 2 is the "how fast can I get" game, where I bump up the speed a little bit each quarter mile. At Mile 2, I was running easily at a 7.0 (8:34 mile) pace. Then I bumped to 7.1. At 2.25 miles, it's 7.2. 2.5 = 7.3. And so on until I get to a pace where I feel like I'm working to hard to keep going up or I get bored.

Game 3 started today. At about 3.5 miles I was getting bored with Game 2, so I thought about my previous blog. In that entry, I mentioned being able to run a consistent seven-minute mile. Could I still bring it? At mile 4, I pushed the machine to 8.5 (7:03 mile) and held on. At 4.5 miles I was feeling pretty winded. By 4.75 miles, I didn't know if I'd make it—that "speed down" button looked awfully tantalizing. 4.9...4.91. I started counting my steps between hundredths of a mile. There were 10 between increments. 4.92 (10 steps) 4.93 (10 steps) 4.94 (10 steps)...the sweat was getting thick...4.95...I wanted to hit my iPod to play my favorite pump-up song, but my arms couldn't get there...4.96...4.97...Almost there...4.98...4.99...

And I made it! A seven-minute mile. It was official. Take that, 25-year-old me. I could still bring it. Well, once anyway.

I still have no idea how I used to do that consistently mile after mile.

No matter. There will be more time to figure out if I can do it more than once. After all, there are more treadmill games to play before this winter is over.

Happy running.