Today’s workout: hill repeats.
Today’s weather: Extreme heat alert. Do not leave your AC to run around town. FYI, 43C = 109F. “Feels like” = burning flames of hell. I assume.
| Sky | Temp (°C) |
Feels Like | Humidity (%) | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| WED 20:00 |  |
28 | 39 | 74 | |||||
| WED 19:00 | |
30 | 42 | 70 | |||||
| WED 18:00 | |
30 | 41 | 66 | |||||
| WED 17:00 | |
32 | 43 | 59 |
Today’s logbook entry: Will throwing up make me feel better or worse?
Title Reference: The Police – King of Pain. 1983.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Earthquakes, tornadoes, pre-giant-thunderstorm 38C heat and humidity, G-force security lockdown. It’s official. I really will run through anything.
Title Reference: Big Joe Turner – Shake, Rattle, and Roll. 1954.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Photo Source: http://moffattvector.blogspot.com
Once again I singlehandedly prove that older does not equal wiser. I decide to spend my holiday long weekend on the sunny shores of Lake Huron, the fourth largest lake in the world (third largest if you only count the freshwater lakes). At this time of year, in the Northern hemisphere, “sunny” is often a euphemism for cold with sunlight. Not any more. Husband and I were swimming in this giant lake on Easter weekend. Giant lakes in Canada are not normally warm enough for swimming in April. Or July. I usually won’t get my toes wet until the water warms up - in August. What a relief to learn that global warming isn’t real.
I set off for an afternoon walk in the sand with Husband. Unseasonably warm (read: record-breaking hot), much of my fair skin was exposed to the elements. Including the tops of my Birkenstock clad feet. It’s a beach. Don’t judge my footwear. You might think that I would have the foresight to apply sunscreen, but you would over-estimate me. Also, last year it was snowing on Victoria Day. My chances of a sunburn at this time of the year are usually quite slim. So I bet against the sunscreen. And lost. Consequently, I am a sunburned mess. The tops of my feet are emitting enough heat to melt a snowman. The red beacon could be spotted by a passing space shuttle. How am I going to run this week when I my feet refuse to remain in those torture devises we call shoes for more than 30 seconds? Painfully, that’s how.
Title Reference: Violent Femmes – Blister in the Sun. 1983.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits
Image Source: www.vintagepostcards.org
It’s finally here. Victoria Day Weekend, the official kickoff to summer. Thank you Queen Victoria for the perfectly timed long weekend birthday. I’m going on a weekend running hiatus, so I present a selection of running blogs to keep you amused until my return. If your blog didn’t make this list (if you ever read “About Me” you know that I like lists 13 items long and therefore omitted some fabulous wordsmiths) leave a comment so my tens of readers can discover your blogging genius. [Tip: click the blog name to link to the blog].
Zero to Boston. He seems to have abandoned his post, but the old entries are worth a visit. Or two.
Running is Funny. Lighten up.
I Like Margarine. He’s a fictional character, but he’s based on a true story.
Sweat Science. A little geek on the run.
Working Up a Sweat in Toronto. She convinced me to drink and run.
Ron Hill’s Alter Ego. Marathon gold in 2012 is, and I quote, “in the bag”.
Chasing the Kenyans. Motto: make yourself hurt and then push harder.
Track and Field Superblog. ABBA impersonator.
Pen at Peace. Cupcake baking Ironperson.
Angry Runner. The anti-blogger.
Copia Verborum. I hope you speak Latin. Seize the road.
Cheaper Than Therapy. A drinker with a running problem.
The Running Laminator. Kid doctor, runner, writer.
You are very welcome.
Title Reference: Islands – Jogging Gorgeous Summer.
The Midsummer Night’s 30K/15K is a terrific summer tune-up run in Toronto. Now four years old, I think the little race (capped around 2000 runners) that could has found a cozy niche.
A Midsummer Night’s Run is a magical evening of running staged on Toronto’s East end trails and Lake Ontario. The run will start before the sun sets and will be finished by the light of the moon. Shakespeare’s own words well describe this night as being “…swift as a shadow, short as any dream…”
The Setting. The organizers are really dedicated to putting on a wonderful event. They obviously pay attention to feedback and use those suggestions to make each subsequent running even better – and this year was the best yet. The Midsummer Night’s Run is a small-scale grass-roots kind of race that spread in popularity through word-of-mouth. After just four short years the event sells out well before race day (followed by a flurry of online bib trading in the 11th hours). The run features fully-costumed Pace Fairies (instead of Pace Bunnies), sparkly winged runners (not me though, I’ve never run a race in a costume), changing and sometimes challenging terrain, and wonderful views of the city. The elaborate medal is befitting a Shakespearean event – well-crafted and unique amongst generic circle medals and uninspired ribbons. As a bonus, each year you run you will receive a Mortal pin documenting your total race mileage (Husband has run the 30K every year since the race started, so this year he received a 120K pin. I’ve run each distance twice and was awarded a fancy 90K pin). The long sleeve technical shirts features a fitting Midsummer Night’s Dream quote (see the post title for this year’s quote). I never paid much attention to old William, but I’m assuming they have an endless supply of material. It’s the little touches that make this race a fun way to break up the monotony of summer training and weeks of long runs. Next year is the 5th anniversary and hints were made that special plans are in the works. I already can’t wait.
As for the 2009 race, there’s a lot of good, not much bad, and no ugly. This coming from the girl who threw up at the finish line last year (my complete inability to run in hot weather is well-documented).
Act I. The weather was about as good as it gets for late August. A 5:30pm start in the peak of summer is a gamble, as evidenced by the heat stroke/heat exhaustion guidelines on the back of our bibs, but we lined up in 20C and overcast conditions. I was doing a little rain dancing around 4pm, but my dance skills are lacking and no rain fell. I suspect I’m one of very few people for whom ‘no rain’ is a disappointment.
Last year’s endless baggage and port-a-loo lines and resultant late start are a distant memory as this year the start, aided by the 60-minute offset for the 30/15K, was entirely hassle free. The loo lines were fast (less than 10 minutes a mere twenty minutes before the start), baggage check had zero wait time (are your reading this Around the Bay organizers?), and it was easy to find the appropriate starting position amongst the correctly ordered pacers (it flabbergasts me that in some races the pace bunnies do not line up in expected finish time order).
The race started on time (I love punctuality) and I readily eased into race pace. The earlier start this year meant more daylight running, although I do miss the blacked out runs of the first two year’s races. I fully understand that I am the rare runner who enjoys running in dangerously dark conditions. The Safety Monitor inside me realizes that the earlier start is a wise decision. I did miss the blinking lights and glow sticks though. The trade-off, watching a glorious sunset as I approached the finish line, was a pretty decent consolation prize.
Act II. The middle kilometres were mostly uneventful, in a good way, and I occupied myself looking for friends on the out and back portions (about 70 people from my run club ran either the 15K or 30K, so this game of “Where’s Waldo” was not a challenge) and admiring the many costumes. The competitor in me is determined to pass anyone running in a tutu. Something about a costume lights my fire. The same thing happened in Las Vegas with all the running Elvises. If the fairies can run in itchy crinoline and wings I should be able to whiz by in my aerodynamic technical ensemble. I’m not convinced I beat all the decorated racers, but I did outsprint a fairy in the final 100 metres. She was 88 years old. Just kidding.
I left my FuelBelt at home and relied on water tables, which were more than frequent enough to meet my hydration needs (indeed, I skipped two). I was rather amused by the rainbow of Gatorade offerings. At various points throughout the race I consumed pink, blue, green, and either yellow or orange (or maybe both) “flavours”. I’m normally a lemon-lime snob, and races are typically green only, so the colour wheel was unexpected; but lucky for me my tummy was not in a rebellious mood.
Around 10K I found myself running next to a very determined stomper. His shoes make “orthopedic” look delicate and with each footstep he landed with such a thundering crash the ground shook, my bones rattled, and I scanned the sky looking for lightning. Coupled with his I’m-about-to-die breathing pattern, for two kilometres I had but one mission… to get the hell away.
Strangest of all, just past the 22K marker I saw a runner veer off the clearly marked route and head, at a full gallop, directly into Lake Ontario. I filed this information away and meant to alert someone at the next aid station, but immediately forgot about this unexplained weirdness until post-race. Now I’m afraid to watch the news for fear a body with a bright purple bib and timing chip washed ashore this morning. I wasn’t sure if he was overheated and cooling off, if he was the infamous “poopy pants” spotted on course cleaning himself up, or if he was hurling himself to his death in a glycogen-deprived bout of running frustration. Oh the guilt. Damn my forgetful nature.
As for my run, I just kept getting faster and I finished with plenty of fuel left in the tank. I get an embarassingly evil ego boost by constantly passing people in the second half of a race – such is the joy of the negative split. The plan was to run at marathon race pace, but I was about 7 seconds/kilometre ahead of pace and – here’s the slightly worrisome part – I felt totally groovy. Almost a little too groovy, like the Acme Anvil is about to fall on my head flattening me into a thin little pancake. I fear the comical anvil will fall during the Marine Corps Marathon.
Act III. For those of you who care about such things, I placed well (if I say more there goes my top secret identity) and ran at a pace significantly faster than my BQ pace. Given my tendency to fall apart over 10C, this run was almost miraculous. At the finish line I was draped with my 20 pound medal and handed a very cool pre-filled stainless steel water bottle from www.planetforward.ca! The organizers encouraged carrying reusable bottles en route (with refilling services) and an admirably large percentage of runners did carry their own supplies. I still need to resolve my eco-self with my lazy-self (I hate using those disposable cups, but I love the freedom from my FuelBelt). The finish line is a bit tricky because you can’t actually see the end until you have only 100 metres or so to go. I wish they had ”500 metres to go” and “200 metres to go” signs. I lose all sense of distance during the final surge. This year was cool in that the 15K and 30K runners finished together – I have lots of friends that run both and the overlapping finish made it easier to hang out in the Steam Whistle Beer Garden drinking and race dissecting. That and the 15K runners were really encouraging with “way to gos” and “wow, you just ran 30K” as the faster 30K racers passed. Now that is camaraderie!
Act IV. Before I could feast I needed to change out of my sweaty apparel and a port-a-loo just doesn’t give me the space I need to wrangle out of sticky tight-fitting gear. Given that the race offers post-race festivities, my wish list for next year (Attention Race Organizers!) includes a boy’s change tent and a girl’s change tent. I’m no shrinking violet, a large single room tent for all the ladies would be good enough for me (the Mississauga Marathon offered five or so single person sized changing tents, but the line-up was lengthy and I almost landed naked in Oz during the 2008 windstorm; in contrast, the Philly Marathon offered a single large locker-room style tent – no waiting, no blowing away). Instead I snuck off behind a lamp post in the ball field to change (let me emphasize, fully change) while Husband covered me with a hand towel so I could avoid an embarrassing indecent exposure charge.
Suitably attired in warm yoga gear and my spiffy Boston Marathon jacket (where else can I find such an appreciative crowd) I found the shortest route to food and drink. And herein lies my only complaint of the day - the food ticket and food lines were a little on the long side (two ticket booths and two food lines would have sped things up significantly), although the beer line was very wonderfully speedy, and the gardens were a bit short on seating.
Epilogue. As is tradition, we stayed in the Gardens until the DJ spun his last tune and our group of revelers caught a nearly empty bus to the parking lot, singing camp songs along the way. Husband and I added our medals to the vase (yes, we arrogantly display our medals in glass vases – which is a quieter and neater alternative to their original home hanging on doorknobs) and prepared for a long summer’s nap.
Lord, what fools these mortals be. That’s my story, now how was your run?
Posted in My Amazing Races
Tagged exercise, fitness, health, marathon, race report, race results, running, summer
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
On long runs I often find myself checking out what other runners are wearing. A little window shopping to pass the time. Since the start of summer I’ve noticed several runners clad in denim shorts. It’s like I briefly run into a time warp, emerge in 1978 and give an early morning nod to Mr. Bluejeans, and just as quickly time warp back to the Lululemon and FuelBelt wearing runners of 2009. The first time I spotted a pair of denim shorts on the run I concluded that the “jogger” was not a jogger, but a person hastily rushing, not jogging, in their cutoffs, tank top, snazzy running shoes, and iPod to some event for which they were running (ha) late. But what’s that old saying … if it looks like a runner and walks (runs) like a runner? The second time I was on a trail, far removed from buses and sample sales and other things worth rushing toward and again I saw it - a jogger in denim cutoffs. Yesterday I spotted another of these strange weekend (always a weekend) creatures. Again on a trail, this jogger wore cutoffs, a cotton tee shirt, an iPod arm band, and carried a water bottle, so I think it is safe to say she was out for a jog. Yet another crossed my path this morning, also witnessed by my running companion who agreed that the individual in question was most certainly jogging in her denim short shorts and it appeared, shoes that would not be sold in the running section of any shoe store.
I call these folks joggers because how can you really run in cutoffs? Back in the anything goes 80s and early 90s I would run in a too-big cotton tee shirt and my high school gym shorts, but even then we knew that denim cutoffs were to be avoided. Intuitively it just seemed like you would be asking for a world of chafe-related pain. Ouch.
I blame this strange new trend on Miley Cyrus:
Miley gave up running soon after the photo was snapped, venting to Ryan Seacrest “I don’t get the big whoop, but whatever. I guess it’s just… I’m not allowed to jog any more.” The crazed media backlash over a teenybopper role model showing a little of both “Hannah” and “Montana” on her run seemed a bit overblown. No she’s not really dressed for a jog, but perhaps she was going for cuteness over function. She is, after all, 16. When I first saw the photo my reaction wasn’t one of shock over the scantiness of her bikini top and short shorts, but a sense of wonder that she would run in something so ill-designed for bouncing and swishing. I, in all my practicality, am decidedly not 16.
Title Reference: Janis Joplin (originally performed by Roger Miller) – Me & Bobby McGee. From the album Pearl. 1971.
Two hikers on a trail came around the bend to find an enormous brown bear about 75m up the trail. The bear spies them and begins running toward them at a full gallop. One hiker drops his backpack, sits down, throws off his boots, and starts lacing up a pair of running shoes. The other hiker says: “What are you doing? You will never outrun that bear!” The first hiker replies: “I don’t have to outrun the bear…”.
I’m going trail running in bear country. I worry I have exceeded my quota of escape luck when encountering rarely seen wild animals on the run. A friend who works for the Ministry of Natural Resources has outfitted me with bear balls (erm, round jingling bells to warn bears there are humans among them), so I don’t accidentally scare a cub-protecting mamma. As I’m apt to, I’ve been researching what to do if I run across a bear. Most of the advice instructs me to first stop and figure out (a) what type of bear I’ve encountered and (b) the type of attack. Once I know what and why I can react appropriately. My Plan B involves (a) panic and (b) running away at top speed.
Dr. Stephen Herroro (in his must-read book Bear Attacks, which is filled with very awesome descriptions of real bear attacks) recommends playing dead during an accidental grizzly bear encounter. Playing dead to a predatory black bear won’t help you much, but it may help the bear. Climbing might help you escape a grizzly attack, if you can scramble up at least 10 metres before the bear gets to the tree. Tree climbing to escape a black bear is rather foolhardy and will probably result in a bear battle amid the branches. By all accounts outrunning any bear is highly improbable. Bears can run up to 30 miles per hour. I can not. I remember an old myth about escaping a bear by running down a slope, under the assumption that bears can’t run downhill without tripping over themselves and turning into rolling projectiles, eating you all but forgotten as their life flashes before their low-vision eyes. For your own reference, this is fiction, not fact. Do not head for the hills.
In my neck of the woods roams the poorly named black bear, as colours vary from blonde to brown to black. Lucky for me, no grizzly bears live in my province. In the unlikely event of a black bear attack, all I need to do is figure out if the motives are defensive or predatory. Something about being stalked by a bear sends chills down my spine. I’ve gone to the helpful Bear Wise website for tips on visiting black bear country.
To sum: do the opposite of what I’m naturally inclined to do.
Know the language of black bears. If you by chance encounter a black bear it may: (i) stand on its hind legs to get a better look at you, (ii) salivate excessively, exhale loudly, and make huffing, moaning, clacking and popping sounds with its mouth, teeth and jaws, (iii) lower its head with its ears drawn back while facing you, (iv) charge forward, and/or swat the ground with its paws – this is also known as a bluff charge. Generally, the noisier the bear is, the less dangerous it is – provided you don’t approach the bear. These are all warning signals bears give to let you know you are too close. When bears are caught off guard, they are stressed, and usually just want to flee.
Basically the bear will try to scare me. I suspect this will not be a challenge for the bear.
What to do – Surprise and Close Encounters: (i) Remain calm. Do not run. Stand still and talk to the bear in a calm voice, (ii) arm your pepper spray, (iii) do not try to get closer to the bear, (iv) if the bear does not get closer to you, slowly back away, talking to the bear in a quiet, monotone voice. Do not scream, turn your back on the bear, run, kneel down or make direct eye contact. Watch the bear and wait for it to leave.
If the bear does not leave or approaches you, yell and wave your arms to make yourself look bigger. Throw objects, blow a whistle or an air horn because the idea is to persuade the bear to leave. If you are with others, stay together and act as a group. Make sure the bear has a clear escape route. If the bear keeps advancing, and is getting close, stand your ground and use your bear pepper spray (if the bear is within seven metres) or anything else you can find or use to threaten or distract the bear. Do not run or climb a tree!
So, if the bear does not approach I should stay clear of the bear (no problem), stay calm (I will try, but I will surely fail) and if it seems prudent to do so I should back away slowly (the slow part would be a test of courage) and try to calm the bear (the bear!) by speaking to it in a soothing manner (what with my girly screaming, this could be hard). If the bear won’t go away I’m supposed to scare the bear. Bwa ha ha. Any bear intimidated by me would probably answer to the name Pooh.
Attacks! Black bear attacks are extremely rare. A black bear may attack if: (i) It perceives you to be a threat to it, its cubs or it may be defending food. This is a defensive bear that wants more space between you and it. Such attacks are exceedingly rare although a bear’s aggressive display may seem to suggest otherwise or (ii) It is a predatory bear. These bears are also very rare. Predatory attacks usually occur in rural or in remote areas. Predatory bears approach silently, and may continue to approach regardless of your attempts to deter them by yelling or throwing rocks.
What to do if an encounter results in an attack: use your pepper spray, fight back with everything you have, do not play dead except in the rare instance when you are sure a mother bear is attacking you in defense of cubs.
If a bear attacks fight like hell. Got it.
Title Reference: Barenaked Ladies – The Other Day I Met a Bear. From the album The Simple Life: Campfire Songs. 2007.
Book Reference: Stephen Herroro. Bear attacks: Their causes and avoidance. Revised edition. The Lyons Press, Guilford, Connecticut, USA, and McClelland and Stewart, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. 282 pp.
Posted in On the Road Again, Running Tids & Bits
Tagged running, summer, trail running
There is a downside to the long-term weather forecast. As race day approaches I start my endless obsessing with matters completely out of my control. There is much to preoccupy my thoughts, but the weather is one of my favourite fixations. I start about fourteen days before the big event, my emotions roller-coastering along with the ever changing forecast. I’m looking at weather charts and systems, trying to muddle through the foreign language of meteorology, all in search of a glimmer of hope. My glimmers are often if X happens in Nunavut and Y happens in Florida and the moons of Jupiter are in the house of the rising sun, then there is a .02% chance of cool and overcast conditions on race day. I am not alone in these weather-checking tendencies. The week has been filled with a string of emails, each one funnier than the last, lamenting the most recent weather update and downgrading finish expectations to something along the lines of ‘before the course closes’.
A few days ago the weather for this weekend’s 50K fun run (yes, I’m still insisting on the fun) made a prediction I tried to immediately repress about the heat plus humidity making it “feel like 34C”. Translation “DNF”. Repression failed, panic rising. My incompatibility with the heat of summer is well-documented. I go from fine and dandy to comatose in about 20 minutes, with nary a bead of sweat ever forming. I simply will not make it to the finish line if the mercury, real or “feels like”, rises to oppressive levels. Unfortunately for me, by that I mean anything over 20C. Given the choice I would opt for wind, snowstorms, hail, or torrential rain over running in a climate to rival in the fiery depths of hell. 25C and I find religion, praying for it all to end. I’ve actually spent the last two days contemplating a distance downgrade, such is my aversion to warm, never mind hot, weather running. A certified (or certifiable) night owl, I have been getting up in the wee hours of the morning to beat the heat and it’s only June. To say I am a hopeless runner in the scorching sun is a dramatic under-statement. You may ask yourself why I am running a race (but, I must remind, not racing the run) in June. You know those ideas that seem good at the time? Yeah, that.
But there is hope. The weather tides have turned, not a complete 180 degrees but a promising 90. Four days from on-your-mark-get-set-go and The Weather Network is predicting 20C, 80% chance of rain, winds around 20km/hr. That’s about as perfect as I dare wish for in June. I’m quelling my excitement for fear of the pre-race jinx, but my optimism is rising despite myself. Truthfully, I’m overcome with sweet relief. I’m still ridiculously under-trained (chips on the theory that it is better to arrive at the start line 10% under-trained than 1% over-trained), but with one less thing to worry about. For now. Tomorrow’s forecast is likely to throw me into yet another tailspin.
Title Reference: James Taylor – Fire and Rain. From the album Sweet Baby James. 1970.
Posted in My Amazing Races, Running Tids & Bits
Tagged fun run, running, summer, ultramarathon, weather
Back in the devil-may-care days of applying “suntan” lotion (and baby oil for the truly dedicated), not sunscreen, I spent hours upon hours at the alter of those magnificent rays. One particularly memorable day I opted to lounge about on a reflective black roof, to maximize the tanning potential, and swiftly fell asleep beneath the sunny beams. Hours later I awoke, climbed down, and feeling a bit parched decided to go to the corner store for an ice cream cone and a soda pop (I know, how very tales from Mayberry). I walked a few staggering steps and promptly fell to the ground, consciousness fading. I ended the day in a hospital, packed in ice, and suffering from the most agonizing of cramps. Apparently the body returning to a balanced electrolyte state is rather painful. Excruciatingly painful, to be accurate. The blisters that lined the back of my body were gruesome in both appearance and quantity. That was my only tango with heat stroke. Stupidly, it was not my last dance with a heat related illness.
Some people are especially prone to heat illness. Often those people are very young, very old, or very ill. I am none of the above, yet my body is incapable of properly regulating temperature. Like the wee little children, I am inefficient at sweating (I’m a low volume sweater, which is handy in nerve-wracking social situations, but not so great for keeping my body chilled) and I have a high metabolic rate (which is awesome for cookie eating, but does generate significant heat). So I am very hot, in that I produce lot of heat, but I have a lazy cooling system. This is a particular problem during exercise, when muscle-generated heat can accumulate faster than it is dissipated. More metabolic heat + inefficient cooling mechanisms + heat generated with running + environmental heat = summertime disaster. When it comes to running, I survive the summer. Barely. I do not enjoy, embrace, or energize. I survive.
My lack of heat acclimatization is just another sign that I am less evolved than most. Daniel Leiberman proposes that the unique human ability to run long distances (compared to our relative lameness at sprinting) is a key to our long-term survival and thrival (I made that last word up; don’t blame Leiberman for my bad rhyme). Evolutionary adaptations that allowed us to run in the heat meant our ancestors could hunt when the yummy game lazed about during the elevated midday temperatures. Clever human ancesters developed mechanisms to rid us of the heat generated by running, allowing us to run longer and farther than others in the wild kingdom. We are noticeably hairless (some more so than others), we sweat (some more so than others), and we breathe through our mouths when we run (like when a dog pants, except we can do this when running fast and they can not). Most other animals would develop hyperthermia (heat stroke) after about 10 to 15 kilometers of running, but we go for miles more. Hell, we voluntarily run marathons and when that’s not enough we run ultramarathons. Few other animals run the same long distance over and over again to see if they can do it faster. Or to see if they can do it in Boston some day.
Without doubt, I would have starved in Pleistocene period, my battle of the fittest eventually lost to a more heat-resistant family line. Although not everyone suffers as I do in the summer, most runners face an increased risk of exertion-onset heat illness in the heat, especially when combined with humid, weather. The sunshine is glorious, particularly after a long winter’s rest, but the potential for the heat to hurt should not be underestimated. More than a run being a slog, a soaring mercury can cause a run to be downright dangerous – if you aren’t careful.
A weather wise runner is familiar with the types and signs of heat illness. I’ve provided a very brief overview of the heat illness triad for you, but nothing replaces consultation with a medical professional or at the very least weblog who’s author has medical credentials (assuming those MDs weren’t procured online).
The more you know friends, the more you know.
Title Reference: Sly and the Family Stone – Hot Fun in the Summertime. Single released 1969.
Posted in Running Tids & Bits, The Science of Running
Tagged cookies, exercise, fitness, health, marathon, running, running science, summer
It’s that time of year again. The time when I do most of my running under the bright rays of the sun. Don’t get me wrong, I celebrate the return of Helios, but as a runner the threat of sunshine means one thing: The Runner’s Tan. Not to be mistaken with The Farmer’s Tan (no, that’s not a tee shirt), the Runner’s Tan is characterized by sun-kissed legs and winter white feet, the contrast sharply divided at the sock line. Despite layers of sunscreen, my runner’s tan is already developing nicely. Soon I will be stationed under a beach umbrella, feet curiously sticking out, as I desperately try to cast off the ghostly hue. Because I never learn, my tootsies will inevitably transition from the bright white of a Hollywood smile to a shocking 1980s pink (and believe me, running with sunburned feet stuffed in shoes is a pain beyond description). And back again. Repeat until Autumn (did I mention I never learn?). Once or twice a season my adventurous (okay, UVA-UVB prudent) side takes control and I attempt to self-tan my milky feet. Horrifyingly, this experiment inserts a shiny golden step to the white and pink stages of colouration. Between the black toenails and the “tan socks” I have yet to reconcile my running with my desire to wear cute summer sandals.
Title Reference: Procol Harum – A Whiter Shade of Pale. From the album Procol Harum. 1967.
My Running Shorts: short stories about my life on the run.
