Smells like teen spirit

It is officially hot in Phoenix: 100 degrees and it is still April.  I love the heat, but I don't love the way the heat makes me smell.

I would not classify myself as an overly stinky person.  I've never been told I stink by anyone other than my wife.  And to be fair, she has the scent tracking ability of a bloodhound and the odor discernment of a truffle pig. 

This skill may be hereditary because my children have an odd fascination with stink.  They have a creepy habit of smelling my shoes and clothes immediately following the completion of a run.  And they don't just attempt to get a whiff of odor, they love to get their faces deep into my shoes and socks and inhale the heady aroma of sweat and feet.  Repeatedly.  Because they think it is funny.

And their critique of my manly fragrance following yesterday's 12-mile run?  "Daddy, you smell like cat pee."

Really?  I smell-checked my shirt and they were right.  Cat pee.  Or maybe cat pee mixed with windex, but either way, definitely heavy notes of ammonia.  What could this mean?  Usually, and this according to my wife, I just smell like dirt.  Dirt, like soil and dust, which in my opinion is preferable to the other b.o. classifications of butt, old person stink, or hot trash.

A quick Google search for "sweat smells like ammonia" revealed that I may:
1.  Have renal failure.  Impossible!  My kidneys were stolen from me in 1997 and sold on the black market.
2.  Have been a victim of cat marking by one or both of our cats.  Possible.  We are in a protracted turf war and I have (unsuccessfully) tried to mark our guest bathroom as my territory.  I refuse to cede.
3.  Be burning muscle for fuel while running.  Possible.  Running Doctor reports that eating more carbohydrates before a run could eliminate the ammonia stink.  Done and done.

From now on I will fuel with asparagus in an attempt to have my sweat smell like dirt again and my pee smell like vegetables.

How to protect yourself from airborne fecal matter

Yesterday there were some crazy winds here.  Crazy like trees knocked down, dogs blown into swimming pools, and planes levitating crazy.  Thankfully I completed my run in the early morning before the worst of the hard blowing commenced.  By 10 am, it was Kansas just before Dorthy vacated.

As an added bonus the wind kicked up an estimated 17 billion tons of dust, pollen, leaves, and landscaper business cards and sent it hurtling across the desert.  I didn't see anyone running yesterday afternoon and with good reason.  The air was thick with disgustingness.  It was all too similar to southern Afghanistan, except without as much airborne fecal matter (I hope).

If yesterday's air quality (think Beijing with cacti) were a regular occurrence here, I would probably find myself running with a respirator.  Commonly referred to as a "gas mask" or "meth cook's PPE", a respirator is designed to filter out pollution and poop particles before you breathe them in. 

Is it advisable or even possible to run while wearing a respirator?  Maybe and yes.

Although technically not a respirator, there are "sport" dust masks available to provide some protection against airborne pollutants.  Or you could get a 20-pack of dust masks at Home Depot for less than the cost of a single "sport" mask.  Not ready to make the commitment to air filtration by way of facial accoutrement?  Try breathing through your nose.  When run is complete (or mid-run) blow out the mess of goo collected in your nasal cavity.  Problem solved.

And I can personally attest that running in a full-face respirator is only slightly preferable to actually breathing airborne fecal matter.  While in Afghanistan I once (and only once) ran seven miles in an M45 mask.  I thought my face was going to liquify from heat.  But it was an interesting challenge trying to keep from hyperventilating. 

Three years ago, a motivated Devil Dog set the word record at the Marine Corps Marathon for running in a gas mask.  Apparently he has been surpassed by a few other masqueraders since his initial attempt and subsequent record.

So if you are a mouth breather, meth cooker, zombiephobe, or just allergic to ragweed, head down to The Surplus Superstore: Serving Paranoia and Paramilitary, and stock up on any variety of doomsday headwear.  Your bronchioles thank you.

Owww, my tight psoas.

I have this nagging lower back pain that is confined to my right side.  When I run it comes and goes, and can extend from just above my hip, through my butt, down into my hamstring.  The name of my injury/ailment/disease is ________.

Since WebMD has virtually rendered doctors obsolete, I have diagnosed myself, via the Thomas test methodology, with a tight psoas.  What the hell is that, word, which if I knew how to pronounce, I would repeat, you ask?

It's pronounced SO-us, and it is a muscle that runs from your lower spine to your femur, located inside of your pelvis.  One of its major functions is to lift the knee when running, so it can get used heavily.  Side note: quite the sacrum on Mr. Body Worlds in the picture.

So now that I have a pain in a muscle that I didn't even know I had, what to do about it?
1.  Eat more fiber.  Again, in this world without doctors, that just seems like sound advice.
2.  Stretch.  Do the Thomas stretch, named for Thomas Jefferson, who had notoriously tight psoai (yes, both of them were tight). 
3.  More stretching.  The kneeling lunge. 
4.  Warrior I yoga pose. 

And if you want to go beyond just the psoas and stretch the pelvic bowl, Dwight Schrute demonstrates the appropriate form.

 

 

Green leafy vegetables, stretching, and the internet.  See, doctors are worthless.

Feetures! I love you! (making a heart symbol with my feet)

I wear socks.  And occasionally underwear.  But never both at the same time.  Can you guess which one I am not wearing right now?

This morning, pre-run, I discovered a hole, possibly from overuse, in one of the aforementioned items of clothing.  Overuse?  The hole definitely wasn't in my underwear. 

The hole was in a one of my many pairs of Feetures! socks.  Yes!  The exclamation point is theirs!  For emphasis!  To let you know that their socks are that exciting!

But despite their grammatical over exuberance, I really do like their socks.  I own a drawer full of their black and white no-show (just like my underwear) socks.  And today, a pair that was just shy of its first birthday, sprung a hole in one of the middle toes.

In Feetures! defense, I have some wickedly disgusting toes.  Nails that have fallen off and regrown into what appears to be a mollusk-like form, alternatingly crusting and oozing blisters, a stink that causes our cats to try to bury my shoes, athlete's foot trying to make a northbound run, and interdigital hair that would make even a chimpanzee stare.  There is a better than average chance that the sock was dissolved by an acidic chemical process occuring inside my running shoes: heat + microorganisms = unknown corrosive byproduct.

Whatever fate befell the sock, Feetures! has a lifetime guarantee.  Pretty incredible to consider, since if something goes wrong on our television past our 91st day of ownership, I guess I'll just carry it out to the garbage can (after cannibalizing it for rare earths, of course).   

Like any other product warranty, I figured that I would have to send in the socks at my expense (presumably so that a guy dressed in a biohazard suit could incinerate them), pay a processing fee, and then pay shipping back for a new pair.  This morning, I swallowed my pride and called their customer service number to ask for a "warranty claim for my socks."  No immediate snickering or discernible condescension, so I continued.  A nice lady took my name and address, asked me what happened to the sock, and said she would send me a new pair.  Seriously?  No need to produce long-since-trashed receipt or mail my putrid laundry back to the factory?  You just won me over for life, Feetures!  The way to my heart is apparently through my feet.  My foul, noxious feet. 

I may go commando, but never a shod step shall I take without my Feetures! (does that need a period or can I just end with their exclamation point?)

An Open Letter

Dear Female Runner in the Town of Paradise Valley,

My sincerest congratulations on outrunning me today.  When I spotted you 200 yards ahead of me, I had no idea that you were running at a 7ish minute mile pace.  I was slowly closing in on you (in a purely uncreepy non-stalkerish sort of way) but then my route took me in another direction. 


I would like to think that you were just out for a three-mile jaunt which would have warranted your extra-quick step.  Unfortunately (for both me and my ego) when we crossed paths again three miles later, you were still hammering at your frenetic speed.

I couldn't catch up to you, but I do have some plausible excuses.

First, when we met I was on mile six of a twelve mile run.  Then again, you could have been on mile ten of a twenty-miler.  Excuse retracted.

Second, I ate a mountain of sugary garbage yesterday.  I spent Sunday shoveling bite sized Snickers into my mouth like firemen shoveling coal into Titanic's furnace.  Ergo, I was slow.  And constipated.

Third, I was scared.  Scared that I would use up too much trying to run down the un-run-down-able.  With little reserves and just beyond my halfway point, I would have had to limp five miles back to the house.  Of my excuses, this is the most embarrassing.

You won this time.  And just to clarify, you knew we were racing, right?

The Best Laid Plans

Today I said goodbye to an old friend.  After this morning's recovery run, I officially retired my second running training plan.  Each and every day since September 17, 2012 I have started the day with a predetermined running plan and mileage.  This works for me because I am a creature of habit and have more than a little OCD.  This doesn't work for my wife because she is anything but a structured planner.

Tomorrow I start something new.  Not a plan, just some free form running.  Not that kind of free form running.  Just running to log some miles, to get some alone time, to hit the dusty trail.  Or not.  Because adopting a plan and then diligently executing to the plan (which I did, faithfully) can lead to a slavish existence.

Many days when it was cold or dark or windy, I ran.  Not because I wanted to.  But because I had to.  Because the plan told me I needed to.  Because if I didn't, the plan would mock me, berate me, and make me pay.  But if I did everything the plan commanded, if I sacrificed for the plan, in the end the plan would reward me. 

I held up my end of the bargain.  I only shorted my marathon and 20k training plans by exactly 4 miles out of 643, due to an unavoidable work conflict.  In the end the plans rewarded me with better performances than I previously thought possible.

But now the only plan, at least until the fall, is no plan.  I have a couple of short and long term goals after that, but they require a deal to be inked with A New Plan.  And my wife has final veto authority.

What's your plan? 

South Mountain 20k Race Report

Today I ran the South Mountain Classic 20k, presented by Arizona Road Racers.  I ran a couple 5k's on this same course over 15 years ago, when I was a slower and fatter man.  I tried to Google my archived results, but pride prevents me from searching too extensively.  

Specifics for today's event:
Start: 7:30 am, Saturday, March 23, 2013
Location: South Mountain city park, 10409 South Central Ave, Phoenix, AZ 85042
Price: $38.61 on active.com (includes taxes and active.com fees)    
Number of participants: 131 in 20k, 152 in 5k 
Environmentals: Clear and sunny, 50 degrees F at start, wind WNW at 5-10 mph
Course: USATF certified 
Event coordinator: Arizona Road Racers (ARR)

Directions to event were accurate and easy.  A Yahoo! maps link with the specific parking location  was provided on ARR's website and in a final race instruction email sent out the night before the race.

Parking was more than adequate.  Vehicle access to South Mountain park was restricted to race participants only.  All other vehicles were turned around at the guard gate and directed to park along the access roads.

Restrooms and porta-potties were plentiful.  No lines for either.

Registration was quick and easy.  100% cotton t-shirts were included with advance registration. 

Race timing was accomplished with a bib chip only.

I arrived about 50 minutes prior to the start and had plenty of time to pickup my bib and shirt, drink some Gatorade, and take care of my pre-race gastrointestinal issues.  Pre-race dinner was delicious homemade mac and cheese, which could have contributed my excessive porta-potty utilization.

There was plenty of room for the lineup and start (pictured).  The 20k started at precisely the published start time (7:30 am), as do all ARR events.

The field immediately thinned and there was no need for position jockeying or running off course. 

Although I had run this course before, I had apparently forgotten about the hills.  The out-and-back course winds through the foothills of South Mountain.  There is a climb from the start to about the 2.5 mile mark.  There is an obvious crest at this point with a gentle grade down to nearly the turnaround point.  Just short of the turnaround there is a significant climb for about 400 meters.

On the return leg, the climb right out of the start was now a welcome downhill for the last 2 miles to the finish.  Due to the elevation, the finish line area was visible from almost 2 miles out. 

I ran in shorts and a technical t-shirt and was glad I did.  There were a few runners in long sleeves, but I'm guessing they were overdressed.  A tailwind on the return leg made the increasing temperature and bright sun seem even warmer.

Water and Gatorade were provided at miles 1, 3.5, 6, 8.5, and 11.  At the finish there was more than enough water, Gatorade, bananas, peanut butter sandwiches, chips, Oreos, and animal crackers. 

I finished third in my age group with a time of 1:30:44.  ARR's website states that awards were given out for the top three finishers in each age group but I couldn't wait around.  I was hoping to finish under 1:27, but I'll blame that on my recent illness and inadequate preparation for the course hills.

Exiting the parking area was easy even though the race was still in progress when I left.  Half of the road was opened for vehicles to exit while runners were still finishing on the other half.

Overall, another excellent local race presented by the good people at ARR.