Desperate times call for homeopathic remedies. I do not take well to illness or injury,
My Running Shorts
My Running Shorts: short stories about my life on the run.
Tag Archives: running injury
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink
Posted in The Doctor Is In
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running injury
I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time
Almost. I almost ran for an entire season without tumbling to the earth in a blaze of glory.
Like this:
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Doctor Is In
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, running, running injury, summer, trail running
I watch the ripples change their size
Last week I participated in a video running analysis. I confirmed that a few suspected quirks in my running form are actual problems that are slowing me down. Continue reading
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Posted in The Doctor Is In
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running injury, running science, science
Rudely abused on some hescher’s joyride
In the past week or so I’ve opened several online papers and blogs – without vomit warnings - to find this: Continue reading
Posted in The Doctor Is In
Tagged cycling, exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running injury
Mixed Tapes Volume 7
- Why Zombies run slow. Subtitle: Could you be a Zombie? Surprising answer: yes.
- A Boston Marathon* anyone can run. Includes franchise, online, implanted memory, and 3D options. On my end, I have big plans to start the Boston Creek Marathon. Qualifications – if you can find it, you can run it.
- Memories of Boston past. The magical time before qualifying standards. The true story of the last one-armed Siggy.
- The five most common newspaper stories about running. Finding a dead body didn’t make the list.
- Not running will ruin your knees. Read it, memorize it, quote it back at cocktail parties when the inevitable couch potato who discovers you run corners you to go on and on about how running ruined his knees and will ruin your knees too.
- Do you have your own Runner’s World reference library dating back decades? My first subscription was in the early 90s. What Runner’s World taught him about running, year after year after year.
- You know you are sick when the flu stops you from out-running a swegging clad fashionista. Swegging – not a typo. And what I really need to know, what was Sweggings finish time?
- For runners, it can be a dog eat dog world. The one good thing about a dog attack on a marathon-running politician in training for Boston? Maybe something will finally be done about this epidemic. It’s already spread south. And the controversy followed.
- A runner was hit by a getaway car. During a marathon. Suddenly those unexpected train delays don’t seem like such a big deal.
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Posted in Mixed Tapes
Tagged Boston Marathon, exercise, fitness, gear, health, marathon, running, running injury, running science, science
Nice legs, shame about her face
Why must my nose run when I run? Blah, blah, scientific explanation, but what about a cure? I’m tired of washing my mittens after every run.
Title: The Monks – Nice Legs Shame About Her Face. 1979.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running injury, running science, science
Don’t stop believin’
I’m feeling a little bad. Husband has been complaining about an injury. It roves. Hip to knee to lower leg. Repeat. Last week he started complaining extra loudly. I poo-pooed his complaints. Husband has a marathon this weekend. Husband has run 12 marathons. Husband has contracted a major case of Marathonia before each one of those races.
Usually he develops a knee “injury” two weeks before the big event, an injury which miraculously heals the day before the big event. From my Freudian sofa I think he temporarily loses his race day confidence and it takes him a week or so to find it again. So when his latest rumblings began I thought, here we go again. Pre-race jitters.
When his “injury” forced him to cut short a 5k run I secretly began to worry. I sweetly suggested he make his way to the sports doc, if only to prove he was Perfectly Fine. So he went. And he’s not Perfectly Fine. He has a stress fracture. And I feel terrible for doubting him, although he is doing an admirable job of holding back the ‘told you so’.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Doctor Is In
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running injury
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees
In the week since The Incident I’ve learned the origin of the phrase “like pouring salt in a wound” because *&^%#$^ it hurts to sweat on skin abrasions.
…
You may recall that during My First Trail race I experienced My First Trail Running Crash. Actually, it was my first on-the-run-fall-down ever. A short week later I experience My Second Ever On-the-Run-Fall-Down ever. This time on a clear dirt path, with no obstacles in sight. It seems I tripped over … nothing. In front of an audience of 12. Instead of somersaulting, like I need during my first trip, I slid along the trail, embedded pebbles in my palms, tearing apart my shoulder, and reopening (and adding some new) the wounds on my knee. I was a bloody mess. Literally, not just in the British I drank too much way. Enough blood dripped down my leg to turn my sock pink then ruby. My thumbs are no longer opposable, which makes tying my shoes laces tricky. Now, as I try to type with what is probably a broken wrist and shoulder that no longer sits where it should, I wonder what’s going on. That little boss in my head Noakes calls my Central Governor is putting on the brakes. Mid-run. I may just listen.
Title Reference: Terry Jacks – Seasons in the Sun. 1973.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, running, running injury
Billy, don’t be a hero
Andy runs a 5K
I am a lady and by necessity run in an anti-movement contraption known as a running bra. The one advantage to an extra layer of clothing on a hot day is protection. Protection from the dreadful sounding nipple chafe. If you have ever seen a guy running with two bright red circles in his nipple region, or a blood-red number eleven dripping down from the nipple region, then you’ve witnessed nipple chafing at its best. Or worst. The Office’s Andy (pictured left) informs us as he tapes his nipples … I’m petrified of nipple chaffing. Once it starts it is a vicious circle. You have sensitive nipples, they chaff, so they become more sensitive, so they chaff more. So I take precautions.
Like Andy, Husband combats nipple chafe by taping. He spares expense and goes for the standard rectangular band-aids rather than the pricey NipGuards and their patented “protection against painful nipple abrasion”. The Around the Bay 30K is well-known for rain and wind, but Husband successfully protected himself against the elements. Post-run he opted for the rip and tear method of band-aid removal, rather than the slow soak off in the shower method I prefer, and now he has perfectly square bald spots on either side of his nipples. I’m trying to mask my giggles with murmurs of pity, but I think he sees through my sympathetic mask.
Title Reference: Paper Lace – Bill Don’t Be a Hero. 1974.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Doctor Is In
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, running, running injury
Like a rollin’ thunder chasing the wind
This summer the sky over my city is as often lit up by lightning as it is by the rays of the sun. The flash storms roll in without warning, lightning literally coming out of the blue (check out some cool photos of a recent storm). I’ve been caught a few times out on a run in the middle of a thunderstorm. My instinct is set a 5K PB getting myself away from bolts that can melt my shoes. I’m not an alarmist, but should I be running scared?
The odds of being struck by lightning in Canada are low, with about 10 deaths and 90-160 injuries per year. The toll is highest in southern Ontario and among outdoor enthusiasts. That last part warrants some precautionary measures on my end. Still, it is rare for a runner to be struck and killed by lightning. Although it does happen. Just last week a man was beach jogging in Southern Shores, NC when he was hit and killed by lightning. Perhaps not surprisingly, most running victims seemed to be on a beach when they met their electrifying maker. I’m an urban runner, but my routes occasionally take me to risky areas like open hill tops and waterfront paths.
The 30/30 rule helps you assess the danger level: Count the time between the thunder and lightning (1 sec = 300 metres, 30 sec = 10K danger zone) and if the bang-flash timing is less than 30 seconds wait until 30 minutes after the last flash and bang before resuming your run. If you find yourself out in threatening weather the universal advice is to “find safe shelter” (meaning a substantial, enclosed building). If that’s not an option you want to avoid being near the tallest object around (so stay away from isolated trees and other tall objects), you don’t want to be the tallest object around (so avoid open fields, beaches, and high ground/hills), you don’t want to be near anything that conducts an electrical charge (so stay away from metal objects like poles, fences, gates) and you need to get away from water. If the weather is really active packs of runners should spread out 3-4 metres. No outdoor place is 100% safe, but you can easily minimize your risk.
In 2007 the New England Journal of Medicine published the surprising case of a 37 year old jogger struck by a lightning sideflash (when the lightning jumps from another object, in this case a tree, to the person) while he was out for a run. The most remarkable part of the story concerns his iPod. Humans aren’t terribly conductive and lightning will usually “flashover” the surface of the body; however, sweat and metallic objects in contact with the skin can disrupt the flow.
An iPod isn’t a lightning rod (it won’t attract lightning), but wearing one can make a bad situation worse. If you are already unlucky enough to get hit, the iPod adds insult to injury when the wires interrupt skin resistance to the electrical current. During a flashover the iPod, against sweaty skin, draws in the current and, in the jogger’s case, directed the current right through his head. The jogger had burns along his chest, neck, and ears following the path of the headphone wire. His eardrums were ruptured, the tiny bones in his ear that conduct sound were dislocated, and he has severe conductive hearing loss. His jaw broke, possibly due to electrically generated muscle contractions. He survived, but his outcome would have been brighter if he hung up his headphones.
Lessons Learned: In addition to the helpful advice about seeking shelter or minimizing risk if shelter is not available, the teched-out runner is reminded to remove all conductive materials from their body. Music players/headphones and cellphones are known hazards. I haven’t yet heard of any Garmin related lightning injuries. Yet. Miles (my Garmin) tends to lose consciousness in rainy weather, so he already stays at home during storms.
Title Reference: Live – Lightning Crashes. From the album Throwing Copper. 1995.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Science of Running
Tagged Garmin, health, iPod, running, running injury, summer, weather
Miles to go before I sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub (Shakespeare as Hamlet said that, not me – and I’m not suicidal, I just like the quote). I worry my lack of sleep is negatively impacting my training (not to mention my thinking). The Runner’s World “Sleep Rule” states that a runner needs one extra minute of sleep per night for every mile ran per week. That means if you, like me, run about 30 miles a week you need an extra 30 minutes a night of sleep. 30 minutes in addition to my basic sleep requirements, egads! Not only do I not get the extra siesta time needed to compensate for my training, I don’t even get the minimal amount of sleep my body needs for regular life. I am accumulating a sleep debt at a rate of one to two hours a night. My legs are no longer responding to direct commands from my brain. I think they are too tired to listen.
We all know that a night’s slumber is restorative, yet in a busy schedule sleep is often one of the first things we sacrifice. For a runner, sleep is when we recover from our workouts. The possible consequences of sleep deprivation are scary. Banks and Dinges (2007) succinctly sum up the body of research, “laboratory studies of experimental restricted sleep in healthy adults suggest some mechanisms by which sleep duration may influence obesity, morbidity, and mortality”. Although the mechanisms under which sleep promotes health are not fully understood, adverse effects of deprivation are well-documented. Your endocrine, metabolic, immune, and cardiovascular systems may all be compromised if you deprive yourself of rest. For example, when you snooze the pituitary gland releases the all-natural HGH (human growth hormone), infamous for its banned performance-enhancing effects, which builds and repairs our muscle and bone tissue. No sleep, no growth hormone. The sleep-deprived also have increased odds of a “cardiovascular event”. Cardiovascular event is code for a 41.1K heart attack. I don’t want to be alarmist, but sleep doesn’t get the props it deserves. Banks and Dinges do note that people differ markedly in their responses to sleep debt, so some fortunate runners can get away with counting fewer sheep.
Inadequate physiological recovery means that an athlete will not be able to perform to their maximum capacity, they won’t recover as fully or as quickly, and they become more susceptible to chronic training fatigue, overtraining syndrome, and injury. Inadequate psychological recovery means that you may not have the will to run or you may not have much fun when you do put on those trainers. So it seems obvious, get a good night’s sleep! But what does that mean? Most people fixate on the time spent horizontal in bed, but there is more to a healthy sleep than the hours of rest. Charles Samuels (2008) nicely summarizes the key elements of our sleep-state that effect athletic performance and post-exercise recovery:
1. Sleep Requirement: The total sleep time is critical, but the required duration varies substantially among individuals. A lucky few are ready to run after a few hours, others can barely function on less than ten. On vacation, away from the demands of life, I naturally sleep the traditional eight-hours a night. That’s an indicator that my magic number is eight, plus the extra 35 minutes needed to compensate for training. That’s one out of three.
2. Sleep Quality: You may be sleeping for a long time, but are those forty winks high quality? Non-restorative sleep is characterized by sleep fragmented with periods of arousal without full-awakening or light sleep with recurrent awakening. I am a classic light-sleeper, awakened by even a light breeze. That’s two out of three.
3. Sleep Timing: We all have a preferred sleep cycle determined by both genetics and the environment. Often we can not match our circadian-driven sleep schedule to the demands of our lives. For instance, Night Owls like me are often forced to wake earlier than optimal for jobs and long runs, but have difficulty compensating by going to bed earlier than our cycle allows. As a result we miss critical periods of REM and slow-wave sleep. That’s three out of three.
Seems I have cause for concern. Although the night calls, my training goal for August is all about the eight-hour lie-down. Carbo-loading is out, sleep-loading is in.
Reference: Samuels, C. (2008). Sleep, recovery, and performance: The new frontier in high performance athletics. Neurologic Clinics, 26, 169–180.
Reference: Banks, S. & Dinges D.F. (2007). Behavioral and physiological consequences of sleep restriction. Journal of Clinical Sleep Medicine, 3(5), 519-528.
Title Reference: Robert Frost – Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. 1923.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Science of Running
Tagged exercise, fitness, running, running injury, running science, science
The Sun Also Rises
The Running of the Bulls made headlines yesterday when an experienced runner was gored to death by Capuchino the Bull. With the added motivation of outrunning a thundering beast, if the course wasn’t so tricky with sharp turns and slippery cobblestone the world-famous encierro could be the fastest 850m dash around. A few years ago I witnessed the running of the bulls firsthand. Scores of still drunk tourists tested their “bravery” by hopping into a corral in front of six 700kg fighting bulls and a pack of tame steers and running their hearts out all the way to the bullring. Well, in theory they run in front of bulls all the way to the bullring. In reality many dove through the protective fencing after just a few metres of running and one glimpse of a bull. Others waited in doorways until the bulls ran by and then chased the bulls to the bullring. It wasn’t so much running with the bulls as it was running out of the way of the bulls.
The more daredevil of the sprinters ran ahead, shoulder-checking for bulls and brandishing a rolled up newspaper in case of a close encounter. That newspaper seems more security blanket than practical as “swatting” a one ton beast hardly seems an effective method of self-protection. Very few runners actually managed to stay in front of the herd. The bulls caught up quickly and the runners often got in their way. That’s what happened with Capuchino after he tripped over some runners and fell behind the pack. The sprint only lasts two minutes, although I’m sure that feels like an eternity to those trying to outrun the bulls.
The path decidedly favours the runners, as the bulls often lost footing and slid around the corners effectively losing all momentum and speed (not to mention the injuries). This adds vewing excitement when the bull rises, as he is just as apt to go in the wrong direction as the right. Once a bull separates from the pack he becomes confused and aggressive and may attack. A bull running backward through the pack, into all the runners who had hid from the animal at first pass, is often a highlight of the race for those anticipating runner-bull interactions. There is something karmically pleasing about this outcome.
Husband (then Boyfriend) and I flip-flopped for two days – to run or not to run, that was the question. With the late night partying and bench sleeping (just try to get a room in Pamplona during the Festival of San Fermin at the last minute without paying a king’s ransom) caution won and we merely spectated. It was the best decision, yet every year around this time a niggling “should have” infects my brain. We also had to consider that we ran (ha) the risk of waking up with no running shoes, as the “campers” (bench sleepers) were often subject to late night shoe-thievery. If you ever see a shoeless bull runner, now you know why. My camera was worth stealing, but my well-travelled running shoes were not. I was also reluctant to run because, well, I’m not comfortable with bull-fighting. Even watching, and therefore supporting, the event was as a moral dilemma. I temporarily rationalized my participation by declaring that I could not oppose what I had never witnessed and therefore did not truly understand, so I watched and to my surprise was infected by the excitement in the air.
Still, I will admit, I was (quietly) rooting for the bulls. Not that I was hoping for someone to meet an untimely death (although there have been fifteen since the 1920s), just for some bullish revenge. I similarly alarm myself by rooting for Dexter the (fictional) Serial Killer. I’m talking about a non-fatal goring or two, some bleeding that didn’t come from the poor bulls and their ever-ticking clock. The runners at the start line seemed far too cocky considering their challengers. Not that they weren’t nervous, as evidenced by the anxious hopping as they awaited the release. But they knew the odds were high that they would survive and the bulls would not. I’m convinced that the bulls are sedated and disoriented before the run, to avoid a possible bloodbath. In fair conditions those taunting amateur runners, having never interacted with anything more aggressive than their cat Mittens, would be trampled, tossed, and gored before they got around the first bend. The year I watched there were no major injuries to humans; it’s best not to mention the bulls. If I ever go back to Pamplona during San Fermin perhaps I’ll run the historic path as part of another event: The Running of the Nudes. Ole.
Title Reference: Ernest Hemingway – The Sun Also Rises. 1926.
No colours anymore I want them to turn black
Long distance runners are not known for the beauty of their feet. We rely on those bones, joints, and ligaments to propel us forward and to provide a cushioned landing and the outcome isn’t always pretty. After a race or a tough workout our feet may look like they’ve been to war. And lost. Blisters, bunions, and black toenails are just a few of the battle scars. I, like many, survive sandal season by camouflaging my piggies with a layer of dark nail polish. I’m too old for the goth look. Normally my colour preferences lean toward the subtle, but subtle won’t disguise the rainbow of death hue of my big toe.
The characteristic red-purple-black discolouration is the result of accumulated fluid, darkened with blood from broken capillaries, beneath the nail (a subungual hematoma). Occasionally the nail plate will become thick and brittle (onychochauxis). If too much fluid collects the pressure can lift the nail from the bed, eventually pushing the nail off entirely. ‘How many toenails have you lost’ is not an uncommon question on the marathon and ultramarathon circuits. It sounds worse than it feels. A black toenail usually doesn’t hurt much at all (assuming it isn’t infected or grotesquely swollen), but some people opt to lance their nail with a pointy object to release the pressure. They claim in doing so the nail won’t fall off. I refuse to do anything best described as drilling into my toe. Instead of self-surgery, I’ll chance the loss.
Google “black toenails” and you will read a lot about the evils of ill-fitting shoes and tight socks. In shoes size matters runners need to fit their feet for the end of the run, not the start. This typically means a finger width of bonus room between your longest toe and the end of the shoe, plus a roomy toe box. Poorly fit shoes can certainly lead to foot injury, but many runners in perfect fitting socks and shoes still suffer blackened toes. Some people are simply more susceptible to back toes and women, I once read but can not find the source, are especially vulnerable. People with a Morton’s toe (the second toe is longer than the big toe) are especially prone to injured second toes. Other people curl their toes when they run, increasing pressure on their toe tips. Improperly cut toenails can exacerbate the problems. For many, black toenails aren’t a simple “if the shoe fits” problem. Increasing shoe size, when shoes are not the problem, may actually make things worse as feet tend to slide around in clown shoes. Footwear is indisputably your first level of defense, but may not be the cure.
According to Jeff Galloway, the pressure from the force of running can lead to the blackening of the toes, even if the shoe fits. As your foot swings forward extra blood is pushed into the toe area. Overtime your little piggies adjust to this extra blood pressure, but if your toes can’t adapt quickly enough you may end up with a dark mark (or badge of honour, depending on the circle). Add in conditions that increase swelling, such as hot weather or lots of hills, and the strain on the toes reaches a tipping point. I’ve struggled with black toenails twice, once after a hot weather 50K run and most recently after the hilly Boston Marathon. My first two casualties (the piggy that went to market and the piggy that stayed home) followed the 50K. To my surprise a wee little baby nail lies beneath the mama nail, such that you aren’t completely nailess after one goes missing. I fear that I’m about to lose another, my last reminder of Heartbreak Hill.
Title Reference: Rolling Stones – Paint It, Black. From the album Aftermath. 1966.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Doctor Is In
Tagged running, running injury, running shoes
All atwitter
My twitter page has been buzzing with news of Britain’s first “twinjury”: taking multitasking to a ridiculous new level, 23 year old James Coleman tweeted as he twan, I mean ran, three miles to work. His experience is an important cautionary tale about the perils of running in this modern world. Head buried in his Blackberry, giving an on-the-run life update to his followers, Coleman ran smack into a low hanging branch. The impact knocked him to the pavement and left him with a black swollen eye shaped badge of embarrassment. His sense of humour remained intact: I guess you could say I feel a right Twit. According to his tweets he ”forgot how tall I am”. Lest his fans worry too much, later that day he posted an update and some hard-earned words of wisdom (in 140 characters or less): Got to work, changed and sat at desk. Low lying branch twittering is unadvised. Best get on with some work.
That’s all he twote.
2 out of 3 Doctors Agree: I Have a Lazy Butt
I have a condition. The technical term used by my physiotherapist is “sluggish glutes”. In layman’s speak, I have a lazy ass. LAS. Lazy Ass Syndrome. And just to emphasize, I wasn’t diagnosed AS a lazy ass, but WITH a lazy ass. That’s an important distinction. It doesn’t sound fatal, but a lazy ass is just the start of a catastrophic chain reaction.
My weak and ineffective back muscles end up compensating for my under-performing buttock. My lumbar region was not designed to bear the burden assigned to my caboose. It’s not entirely my fault that I have a weak and ineffective back – some of it I can blame on genetics (but, admittedly, I’ve been neglecting my core work – something I sorely regret at the moment. Note to self: practice what you preach). I have mild scoliosis and some of my lower vertebra are in permanent flexion (weird yes, but it’s just the way I’m made and this newly discovered tidbit explains why upward facing dog is a nearly impossible pose for me even after 10 years of yoga), which means my back isn’t well-equipped to handle the impact of running. And my back certainly isn’t well-equipped to handle the extra work load generated by my slothful rump. Adding injury to insult, if you will.
My hamstrings try to do their part in picking up the slack created by my derrière, but they are already working at full capacity. Fortunately my hamstrings are not weak and ineffective and so they don’t deteriorate as quickly as my back from the added burden, but my increasingly tight muscles tell me that they too have suffered consequences. Compensating for my idle posterior over significant periods of time (like during a long run) causes my back to tire and my hamstrings to tighten, which then puts additional strain on my hip flexors. Not long after my hip flexors tighten, tire, and succumb. You can see the dominoes toppling – back, hamstring, hip flexors, to be continued. By the end of the run I’m struggling to maintain some semblance of an upright posture and I’m experiencing what can only be described as Pain. With a capital P.
The solution, according to my most recent consult, is threefold:
- I need to wake up my bum before every run to remind it that I expect it to do some work. Otherwise it will stay in slumber ’til noon like a sleep-deprived teenager, then will spend the rest of the day eating pizza and watching TV. No more lazing about expecting the rest of my body to cover the slack. No more free rides.
- I need to ramp up my core work from minimal to maximal. I vow to return to pilates. I stopped going in November for no reason other than I got distracted and kind of forgot about pilates. Like the whole concept of pilates was erased from my memory. Now that I’ve remembered I shall return. Today.
- I need to strengthen my gluteuses (minimus, medius, and maximus – you all need to shape up). By the the fall race season my goal is to have Buns of Steel. And I will have time-warped back to the 1980s where I show off my buns of steel while wearing a unitard, legwarmers, and a wide neck shortie sweatshirt loosely worn off of one shoulder.
Let’s get physical.
