East Nashville

July 23, 2013

The Power of Running Hills

Like many people who change their minds, I used to hate running. It is well documented in this blog, but in short, I tried dozens of times, but would typically get all fired up, go run a few blocks, then quit. Last January that all changed, and along with it came a very lucky consequence.

Jim Schwan is the reason I’m now a runner and triathlete. He put in silly hours by my side with relentless encouragement and support. He volunteered for the Nashville Running Company Couch to 5K program that started this mess and I have literally never looked back. But along with the boost and support of friends came an added bonus — the streets of East Nashville are loaded with hills.

I have been running hills since day one. I wouldn’t call them monsters, but it’s hard to run more than a few blocks in East Nashville without shortening your stride.

At first I dreaded the climbs (even the descents) but now . . . I am not kidding when I say I prefer to run hills.

It’s similar with the bike. There is something about hills that engages the competitive spirit in me. Running or biking a long flat drives me bat shit crazy. You just cruise along at the same rate with the same stride, using the same muscles over and over and over, which is why I wouldn’t be surprised if people who only run flats get more injuries.

The reason I love triathlon is that it works the whole body. In the course of a race, every muscle is tested and running hills gives you a better overall leg workout. Not to mention, you typically run with better form.

When you tackle a hill, your mind is focused. You’re not talking about the Royal baby with someone cruising along next to you. You are in a zone, focused on your stride and breathing.

I really think concentration is the most underrated part of good workouts. You’re not drifting off to songs on your iPod, or reading a magazine on a Stairmaster, you’re meditating in motion. And when you’re in the moment, results are always better.

When I run hills I am in an intensely in the present. I’m focused on the next step and the next breath. Hills also create mini “ends” within the race because there is nothing as awesome as getting to the top.

Tonight, I had a hill repeat workout on the schedule. 20 minute warm up, followed by 6 x 3 minute climbs with 5 minute descent between. Cool down to equal 60 minutes. The worst part of that run, by far, was the flats leading up to and following the hill portions.

The run course at for my recent Half Ironman in Muncie was rolling, but the hills barely fazed me. There were, however, tons of people who opted for walking. These are the times when I feel lucky that I started my training in East Nashville.

I finished 17th overall in my age group at Muncie, but only 10 out of 88 ran a faster 1/2 marathon time. I believe that is a direct reflection on not only running hills, but my growing desire to seek them out.

January 22, 2013

Multi-tasking at The Gym

Okay, what the hell is going on inside the modern gym? Today’s Ironman training program called for weights and I was quite amused by the things I saw at our local YMCA. I can only imagine what happens at the fancy spas.

It is especially startling to the new “Ironman Monk” inside of me that likes to put 100 percent effort into the exercise with the least amount of distraction. I’ve even read arguments that say music during a workout takes away too much focus. But today, I ran across a few examples that were a little more blatant.

For example, Daniel and I are working our legs this morning and he says to me, “Check out that guy on the elliptical.” Dude is wearing baggy royal blue sweats, a white sleeveless t-shirt and drinking a coffee during his workout. I watched in awe as he pounded the beans and added texting to the mix.

Then, there is another guy that baffles me. He reminds me a bit of Ray Lewis because he is always fired up and walks around with a bandana on his head and a hands-free phone. He strides around the weight room with Tony Horton-like enthusiasm, talking non-stop into his phone and half the time I think he’s saying something to me. I mean, who would sit on the other end of a phone call listening to a guy workout? I am starting to wonder if he is the East Nashville Y’s version of Manti Te’o.

Then, for good measure, I’m taking a break between sets of box step-ups and I admire a woman tucked into a beautiful pigeon pose on her yoga mat. I felt the tension melting from my hip flexors as I gazed at the glorious pose. She was lost, deep in the stretch, focused on mind, body, and intention, all while reading email on her phone!

And all of this in one morning. Amazing!

It got me thinking. I’m sure there are hundreds of other stellar examples of tomfoolery at the gym. What the hell is going on out there? I’m sure you have some great stories to tell!

October 15, 2012

Swimming with Little Old Ladies

I am really hoping I transform into a butterfly of the mornings but it is a major challenge. It doesn’t help that while I’m still lying in bed, 3/5ths of the Ironman Wisconsin team is Sweatin’ to the Oldies at the East Nashville YMCA (otherwise known as Margaret Maddox YMCA . . . which I plan to start calling it in hopes of creating even more confusion and randomness in my life).

I did eventually get to the pool by 7 am, which is pretty damn impressive, but my training buddies were DONE by 6:15. I eagerly shared my lane with a snappy little old lady and the entire time imagined it was Margaret Maddox. This seemed to help my production, and I worried the brute force of my stroke may actually splash her out of the pool, which would have certainly put my membership in jeopardy.

But Margaret was a pro and blazed her own trail. Cutting through violent waves with the precision of a seasoned quilter . . . just like you would imagine anyone having a YMCA named after them would.

Adding to the curious Margaret-dynamic was that the guy in the lane next to us was absolutely crushing his stroke. It was loud–bordering on obnoxious–and he was flying! This was truly some Tarzan shit and more than once I peered creepily under the water to steal his secrets. But there were no secrets. He was simply overpowering the water like a fan boat in the Everglades and it was all I could do to keep from overturning onto my beloved Margaret. I did, however, notice he couldn’t keep that gorilla-like stroke for more than a couple laps.

Speaking of gorillas, later today, I plan to post a scintillating story that re-caps my first trail run, the Peaceful Hill Sasquatch Trot. The tale promises to be replete with struggle, passion, fear, scenery, monsters, injury and roadkill, but unfortunately no Margaret’s.