One of the hardest parts about training for an Ironman (or any event, really) is the taper period. After 7 months of hard training, you suddenly must slip into easy training 2-3 weeks before the big race, and then nearly no training at all for the last week. It is physically and emotionally painful. This year, I have trained harder than every before, and the taper is particularly difficult.
Four weeks ago, I started to ease off and began to sleep more. Once I started sleeping, all I could do was sleep, but with two toddlers, that wasn't really an option, so I really spent my days in a fog. Then the legs started aching. They ached at night, in the morning, and pretty much all day. I began sleeping with a pillow between them, but that didn't help much. After the sleeping phase, I moved into the anxiety phase, and wasn't able to sleep at all. Every dream was about the race, and I woke up exhausted (wasn't I supposed to be getting extra rest???).
My metabolism was still jacked high, so I got away without changing my diet while easing up on my training...for about two weeks. Now, with less 10 days of tapering to go before the race, I have had to make a major shift in my eating (no more Chinese food!), so as not to put on any (more) weight than I did in the last few days.
But the hardest part is refraining from going out for a long run. I miss the solitude, the effort-induced pains that melt into a comfortable stride, the feeling of relaxation when I return, exhausted, and the deliciousness of the first sips of water. I look forward to race day, to the chance to test my mind and body, four years wiser and older than the last Ironman. Am I better this time, or just older? I know my mental edge is much, much stronger. I also look forward to the day after the race, when I can wake up and do whatever workout I please, not worrying about pace or proper nutrition. I might take that day off. Or maybe, I'll lace up shoes and sneak out at sunrise and hobble a short distance, for the peace, the quiet, the secret I keep with the start of every day. Only a few more days and the taper will be over.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Annual MRI
Last week, Alex had his annual MRI. It has actually never been an annual thing, because there have been complications and emergencies and further brain surgeries, but this year, we hope it will be an annual one. No more Christmas Eves spent in the ER. No more canceled birthday parties for brain surgery. We hope.
Alex demonstrated extraordinary strength at the MRI. He will be three years old in September, so right now, we say he is two and a half. He would have been born in January if he had been on time, so his age is sort of true. One of the great traumas of the MRI is the anaesthesia. It is painful to have the needle stuck into the vein, and then to sit there often for hours screaming uncontrollably while waiting for the MRI to be free, and then to fall asleep with medicine, and wake up confused, not knowing what just happened, and to have to sit in the recovery room for over an hour, hungry and unhappy, and then to fall asleep in the car on the ride home and be cranky until the next day-the whole ordeal is pretty horrible. But the anaesthesia is usually necessary to keep a child as young as Alex still while the MRI--loud and scary--takes its pictures of the brain.
So, last week, we just happened to have an amazingly astute nurse. I mentioned that it was too bad they wouldn't even consider letting Alex try sitting in the MRI without anaesthesia. She commented that it was too bad, but they don't usually even consider it until children are four, and then you have to make an evening appointment and come back the next day if the child freaked out during the procedure. Then she left the room and returned in 5 minutes, excited and in a hurry. Someone in charge had agreed to let Alex give it a try.
Alex had to sit for at least 15 minutes, lying down on his back, within the tunnel of the MRI, without moving a muscle. He could not turn his head or talk or roll over. The nurse gave him goggles to watch Blue's Clues, his favorite show, and then strapped him in. The MRI started, and he just sat there, mesmerized by the show, despite the extremely loud and grating sounds of the machine. Erik and I held his hand and our breath. In the end, he did it! When they wheeled him back out of the MRI, he asked if he could watch Thomas the Train.
After checking the dial on his shunt, we went home, a full two hours ahead of schedule, minus the trauma, and with a happy child in our back seat. We are so very thankful for good nurses. Her decision to give Alex a chance without anaesthesia made our day, changed our entire vacation (we were on vacation in NH that week) and will likely change the next few years of MRIs.
Alex demonstrated extraordinary strength at the MRI. He will be three years old in September, so right now, we say he is two and a half. He would have been born in January if he had been on time, so his age is sort of true. One of the great traumas of the MRI is the anaesthesia. It is painful to have the needle stuck into the vein, and then to sit there often for hours screaming uncontrollably while waiting for the MRI to be free, and then to fall asleep with medicine, and wake up confused, not knowing what just happened, and to have to sit in the recovery room for over an hour, hungry and unhappy, and then to fall asleep in the car on the ride home and be cranky until the next day-the whole ordeal is pretty horrible. But the anaesthesia is usually necessary to keep a child as young as Alex still while the MRI--loud and scary--takes its pictures of the brain.
So, last week, we just happened to have an amazingly astute nurse. I mentioned that it was too bad they wouldn't even consider letting Alex try sitting in the MRI without anaesthesia. She commented that it was too bad, but they don't usually even consider it until children are four, and then you have to make an evening appointment and come back the next day if the child freaked out during the procedure. Then she left the room and returned in 5 minutes, excited and in a hurry. Someone in charge had agreed to let Alex give it a try.
Alex had to sit for at least 15 minutes, lying down on his back, within the tunnel of the MRI, without moving a muscle. He could not turn his head or talk or roll over. The nurse gave him goggles to watch Blue's Clues, his favorite show, and then strapped him in. The MRI started, and he just sat there, mesmerized by the show, despite the extremely loud and grating sounds of the machine. Erik and I held his hand and our breath. In the end, he did it! When they wheeled him back out of the MRI, he asked if he could watch Thomas the Train.
After checking the dial on his shunt, we went home, a full two hours ahead of schedule, minus the trauma, and with a happy child in our back seat. We are so very thankful for good nurses. Her decision to give Alex a chance without anaesthesia made our day, changed our entire vacation (we were on vacation in NH that week) and will likely change the next few years of MRIs.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Inspiration
We've had a tough emotional week this week, with Mommy being away to train and Alex's next MRI (next week) hanging over our heads, and at times I loose sight of my goals, my reasons for racing and training, and even the things that I love most in the world turn to chores. I picked up a book for my trip last week and highly recommend it to anyone needing some end of season inspiration.
The book, Going Long: Legends, Oddballs, Comebacks & Adventures, The Best Stories from Runner's World has some awesome stories in it. There are two passages that were so beautifully written, I am adding them here.
From Benjamin Cheever (son of my dad's favorite author, John Cheever), about training and completing his first marathon:
"Joy changes the landscape. My old life began to loosen around me like somebody else's shell. I felt naked, exposed. I had flashes of ecstasy, but pain was also more available to me. Not just physical pain either. I was swept with waves of remorse. And, alarmingly, I also felt the stirrings of ambition. I'd stumbled into an arena where I could go all-out, holding nothing back, and nobody--nobody--could be injured or even threatened...Life is a miraculous undertaking if you're paying attention."
And then a quote from Olympic marathoner Don Kardong on running his first 50 miler, Le Grizz. He is about to start the race (which he will win in under 6 hours, incredibly) and he looks around at the other lean bodies around him, shivering in the cold, dark morning. "Above them, the eye of the moon blasted its icy light across the wilderness, promising nothing but indifference of Nature to human dreams."
And then another quote, somewhere around mile 45 as he remembers the advice of a friend, "It never always gets worse. Eventually something will get better."
"Perhaps the attraction of ultrarunning lies in the simple distillation of this: the ability to envision a distant goal--another time and place when things will be better--and to survive the worst until then. This vision embraces both the survival instinct that unites us to other creatures and the imagination and willpower that catapults us above them. 'I will make it,' says the determined mind, and the body grows convinced."
We will get through Alex's MRI. Last year, the annual MRI revealed to us that he had to have another major brain surgery. This year, we hope for better news. But no matter what, we will get through it all. I envision a distant time where things will be better. After the Louisville Ironman (and Hawaii? one can only hope...), there will be a 50k and then a 50 miler...there will be lots of time to ponder upon Nature's indifference to human dreams, and to fulfill those dreams regardless.
The book, Going Long: Legends, Oddballs, Comebacks & Adventures, The Best Stories from Runner's World has some awesome stories in it. There are two passages that were so beautifully written, I am adding them here.
From Benjamin Cheever (son of my dad's favorite author, John Cheever), about training and completing his first marathon:
"Joy changes the landscape. My old life began to loosen around me like somebody else's shell. I felt naked, exposed. I had flashes of ecstasy, but pain was also more available to me. Not just physical pain either. I was swept with waves of remorse. And, alarmingly, I also felt the stirrings of ambition. I'd stumbled into an arena where I could go all-out, holding nothing back, and nobody--nobody--could be injured or even threatened...Life is a miraculous undertaking if you're paying attention."
And then a quote from Olympic marathoner Don Kardong on running his first 50 miler, Le Grizz. He is about to start the race (which he will win in under 6 hours, incredibly) and he looks around at the other lean bodies around him, shivering in the cold, dark morning. "Above them, the eye of the moon blasted its icy light across the wilderness, promising nothing but indifference of Nature to human dreams."
And then another quote, somewhere around mile 45 as he remembers the advice of a friend, "It never always gets worse. Eventually something will get better."
"Perhaps the attraction of ultrarunning lies in the simple distillation of this: the ability to envision a distant goal--another time and place when things will be better--and to survive the worst until then. This vision embraces both the survival instinct that unites us to other creatures and the imagination and willpower that catapults us above them. 'I will make it,' says the determined mind, and the body grows convinced."
We will get through Alex's MRI. Last year, the annual MRI revealed to us that he had to have another major brain surgery. This year, we hope for better news. But no matter what, we will get through it all. I envision a distant time where things will be better. After the Louisville Ironman (and Hawaii? one can only hope...), there will be a 50k and then a 50 miler...there will be lots of time to ponder upon Nature's indifference to human dreams, and to fulfill those dreams regardless.
Inside the 5 Week Window
With less than 5 weeks to go until race day, my training has been in full swing. Last week I spent a day riding and running the race course, and found that it is both hilly (who told me it was flat???) and extremely hot (heat index 105 degrees). In this heat the first thing to go is nutrition. It is hard to balance nutrition on race day in any Ironman, but when you add an extreme condition, or extremely difficult course, everything gets turned upside down.
Last week, by the time I hit the run, I was completely unable to consumer solids. In fact, on the bike, I ate only one powerbar, some cookies, some salty peanuts, and began drinking coke at mile 80 (I usually don't start on coke until mid way through the marathon). I drank an entire 2 liters of coke and lots of other fluids. It is going to be a very challenging race.
The great thing about training on the race course is that you mentally prepare for the actual race, rather than the race you thought you would be racing (where did those hills come from???) and you recognize your weakness. My great weakness (here's a gift to the competition...) is going to be the run in this race, which will most likely take place after a hilly hot ride, under a still unrelenting sun. So, I am altering my training to prep for this. I also found that walking through the aide station does give you a little time to get yourself together for the next mile. I may have to incorporate that into the race, which I don't usually do.
If any of this blog's followers are racing in Louisville, you still have a couple more weeks to condition yourself for the heat. I have heard from other racers and it seems the greatest problem this year in these long races has been the heat, and the resulting poor hydration and nutrition that accompanies it.
Last week, by the time I hit the run, I was completely unable to consumer solids. In fact, on the bike, I ate only one powerbar, some cookies, some salty peanuts, and began drinking coke at mile 80 (I usually don't start on coke until mid way through the marathon). I drank an entire 2 liters of coke and lots of other fluids. It is going to be a very challenging race.
The great thing about training on the race course is that you mentally prepare for the actual race, rather than the race you thought you would be racing (where did those hills come from???) and you recognize your weakness. My great weakness (here's a gift to the competition...) is going to be the run in this race, which will most likely take place after a hilly hot ride, under a still unrelenting sun. So, I am altering my training to prep for this. I also found that walking through the aide station does give you a little time to get yourself together for the next mile. I may have to incorporate that into the race, which I don't usually do.
If any of this blog's followers are racing in Louisville, you still have a couple more weeks to condition yourself for the heat. I have heard from other racers and it seems the greatest problem this year in these long races has been the heat, and the resulting poor hydration and nutrition that accompanies it.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Casting Alex's Arm--Contraint Induced Therapy
Last week, Alex had his right arm casted. Since his right arm is strong and very capable, it does all the work for the left side, disabled by cerebral palsy. Despite therapy and all the work we do to every day to work that left side, we have reached a plateau. Erik and I knew it was time to take more drastic measures, and we researched constraint-induced therapy. The idea is that constraint is placed on the part of the body that is capable, therefore requiring the disabled area to work.
From the moment Alex sat in the doctor's office getting his cast, his left arm started to work. The doctor handed him object to hold to help entertain him during the casting, and "lefty" took them willingly. In the past, "righty" would have jumped in and not allowed lefty to play. After one week, we see tremendous progress. The hardest thing for Alex right now is eating with a spoon or fork, because lefty turns outward and has a very hard time grabbing anything as small as a utensil stem. But, with work, he is making great progress. He is also eating with his left fingers and reaching in all directions for his toys. The cast is removable, so we take it off during bath time, in the pool, etc. Everyone we know is signing the cast and although he occasionally complains that he wants to take it off, he is proud of his cool cast that has gotten him lost of attention.
I understand many parents would fear their child might completely reject the idea of wearing a cast, but children really do get used to things, even when they are uncomfortable. Seeing the progress Alex is making is all the encouragement we need to work with this therapy until we feel he can stop wearing it. I expect he will have it for many weeks. We had hoped to also use another form of treatment using botox injection in the muscles of the disabled arm, which deadens the nerve endings for about 3 months, to allow Alex to better use that left arm, but have read FDA warnings against using it. We will speak in depth with his doctor about this.
From the moment Alex sat in the doctor's office getting his cast, his left arm started to work. The doctor handed him object to hold to help entertain him during the casting, and "lefty" took them willingly. In the past, "righty" would have jumped in and not allowed lefty to play. After one week, we see tremendous progress. The hardest thing for Alex right now is eating with a spoon or fork, because lefty turns outward and has a very hard time grabbing anything as small as a utensil stem. But, with work, he is making great progress. He is also eating with his left fingers and reaching in all directions for his toys. The cast is removable, so we take it off during bath time, in the pool, etc. Everyone we know is signing the cast and although he occasionally complains that he wants to take it off, he is proud of his cool cast that has gotten him lost of attention.
I understand many parents would fear their child might completely reject the idea of wearing a cast, but children really do get used to things, even when they are uncomfortable. Seeing the progress Alex is making is all the encouragement we need to work with this therapy until we feel he can stop wearing it. I expect he will have it for many weeks. We had hoped to also use another form of treatment using botox injection in the muscles of the disabled arm, which deadens the nerve endings for about 3 months, to allow Alex to better use that left arm, but have read FDA warnings against using it. We will speak in depth with his doctor about this.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Taking it to the Track
If you have lost your motivation to exercise, spend a few minutes watching someone's kids (they don't have to be your own) run. Children run for the pure, unadulterated joy of the feeling of movement. Alex and Izzy run constantly. They only stop when hungry, thirsty or distracted by something they need to bend down, pick up and analyze. With hot summer nights lasting well beyond usual bedtimes, we often take our kids to the track to run. They need an after dinner activity that will wear them down before bed, and the track, fenced and wide open, is safe, it's open expanse inviting to all to just start moving.
At their first track meet of the season, Alex and Izzy ran their 60 meter races (Izzy in the 2 and unders, Alex in the 2-3's) and then ran some more. Alex jumped into the 6 and under 400 meter race and finished the entire 400 meters on his own! The more they run, the better their balance becomes, and the more they seem to love running. Not only are they feeding their brains with BDNF and other cell and synapse stimulating chemicals, they are forming good exercise habits that should follow them into adulthood. They also inspire their parents, and anyone who watches them run on a hot track with huge smiles on their faces.
I had a miserable high school track experience. I was kicked off my track team twice (the first for running the Boston Marathon during our spring break, which angered my coach, and the second for not showing up for a state qualifying race which I blew off during a moment of bad adolescent judgment when I justified my actions that I had already qualified for the state meet, which I never ran after being removed from the team). I also broke our school records for the mile and two mile during our first track meet. My coach was a complete jerk. Not surprisingly, he still coaches my high school team and continues to make otherwise promising athletes miserable.
If you had a similar high school experience, or simply looked at the track as a hot, painful place to run, you might try returning to it as an adult. Life's painful lessons may have knocked the track into its rightful place, as your friend and no longer a fearful beast. And if you need any extra motivation to get to the track, bring a toddler with you. The pure happiness they exhibit, running freely within the immense, open space of a track and football field might just get you jogging. And if you "forgot" your running shoes, go at it in bare feet, your aging aches will ache less.
At their first track meet of the season, Alex and Izzy ran their 60 meter races (Izzy in the 2 and unders, Alex in the 2-3's) and then ran some more. Alex jumped into the 6 and under 400 meter race and finished the entire 400 meters on his own! The more they run, the better their balance becomes, and the more they seem to love running. Not only are they feeding their brains with BDNF and other cell and synapse stimulating chemicals, they are forming good exercise habits that should follow them into adulthood. They also inspire their parents, and anyone who watches them run on a hot track with huge smiles on their faces.
I had a miserable high school track experience. I was kicked off my track team twice (the first for running the Boston Marathon during our spring break, which angered my coach, and the second for not showing up for a state qualifying race which I blew off during a moment of bad adolescent judgment when I justified my actions that I had already qualified for the state meet, which I never ran after being removed from the team). I also broke our school records for the mile and two mile during our first track meet. My coach was a complete jerk. Not surprisingly, he still coaches my high school team and continues to make otherwise promising athletes miserable.
If you had a similar high school experience, or simply looked at the track as a hot, painful place to run, you might try returning to it as an adult. Life's painful lessons may have knocked the track into its rightful place, as your friend and no longer a fearful beast. And if you need any extra motivation to get to the track, bring a toddler with you. The pure happiness they exhibit, running freely within the immense, open space of a track and football field might just get you jogging. And if you "forgot" your running shoes, go at it in bare feet, your aging aches will ache less.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
It's Hot!
You either love training and racing in the heat, or you don't. I am convinced we can improve our tolerance for the heat, but we are born programed either to perform well or not in the heat. In Arizona last month, running trails in 95 degree dry heat, Erik overheated and I barely broke a sweat. This week, with the heat index above 108 degrees yesterday, even my heat tolerant body faced a challenge. Training for my Ironman in this weather is challenging but hopefully good prep for the actual race which will take place in the hot and humid heat of Kentucky in late August.
Alex and Izzy, like all children, do not do well in the heat. They have their first track meet of the year this week and the temps will be in the 90's, even at 6pm. We will go from the track immediately into the pool to cool off. Lots and lots of fluids all day and frequent dips into their blowup pool will help prep them for the race itself. It will be fun to see how far Alex has progressed from last year, when he was just barely able to walk without assistance, but had to run holding my hand. We raced together. This year, with both kids old enough to participate in the 2 and under category, and neither needing my hand, it will be fun to see how they perform, side by side, running down the 60 meters of track.
Alex and Izzy, like all children, do not do well in the heat. They have their first track meet of the year this week and the temps will be in the 90's, even at 6pm. We will go from the track immediately into the pool to cool off. Lots and lots of fluids all day and frequent dips into their blowup pool will help prep them for the race itself. It will be fun to see how far Alex has progressed from last year, when he was just barely able to walk without assistance, but had to run holding my hand. We raced together. This year, with both kids old enough to participate in the 2 and under category, and neither needing my hand, it will be fun to see how they perform, side by side, running down the 60 meters of track.
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