5K

Some thoughts on my running experiences, originally posted to Bike Forums a couple of weeks ago.

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Last time I ran was in high school. I attended a private school that had no more clue what to do with a bent, bookish, fat kid than anyone else. When I wasn't shunted off to the weight room by myself, unsupervised, because they thought I couldn't handle gym class, they tried to come up with other things for me to do. I ran a couple of times on the school grounds, and one time turned in a 14 minute mile. I was apparently such a wreck afterward the gym coach never had me do that again.

A quarter century later, I ran some short sprints as I lost weight, but nothing serious. First time was by accident - I was late for work and ran to my office. I was so excited I could run I started running in the hallways to show people I could do it. They asked me to stop running in the hallways.

I'm not properly built for sustained running. In addition to the excess weight, my left leg doesn't have a full extension, hence my limp. Both knees are knocked, and the right one has been dislocated twice. Still, I'd like to try this at least once, if only because five years ago I couldn't walk a city block, and my limitations are self-made.

While Sayre Kulp has been the guy pushing me to do this, if only because he wants to hold myself accountable to my words and not sell myself short, my interest was kindled by my friend Dan Lucas, editor of Chess Life, who is training for his first half-marathon. (Not all chess players are sedentary.) Dan's given me advice on running, and I'll see how much of it I can apply Saturday.

My big fear is that I'm going to beat up on myself regardless of the result. I'm expecting I'm going to have to walk much of the course this weekend. I considered taking on the shorter 1 mile "fun walk/run" simply because I thought I could spend a greater percentage of the time running, but I was argued down. "Don't sell yourself short" I was told. I'm still not entirely persuaded, but I'm going to attempt the longer distance.

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Well, folks, I did it. I walked most of the course, but I completed the "Burn off The Bird" 5k in Phoenixville on November 27. My official time was 50:13, but that's highly suspect since they didn't have a clock up and no one had a stopwatch out aside from my friend Sayre. His time for me is about 55 minutes, and that's seems right.


Here's my reaction to learning that I finished in under an hour, which was my goal:

My new low

.... is 285.4. And down I come!

And the dial says......

After finally purchasing a new scale, I got down to the messy business of weighing myself. This is the first time I've stepped on a scale in a year. Did I come in at 320? 340? Worse?

296.4.

I tried it three times. Each time the same weight. So either my Taylor scale is wrong, or I'm the same weight I was last year.

Well then, why is my waist size up? Perhaps it's simply that I'm not doing lifting any longer. Fat takes up more room than muscle. Back to the gym when I'm able to.....

Becoming

An interesting comment at Becoming Timberman, a blog for the swim-run-bike crowd:

"Confidence. When you schedule a race, do that race, even if you think you're not ready for it. If you've trained, and you're healthy, do the race. You might feel like you aren't as fast as you want to be, but the training is there, and the only thing that might make you feel like you can't do it is your mind. I can attest to this one personally. Do you think I felt like I was truly ready to do Timberman when i sat there in my wetsuit for 30 minutes before my wave went off? Do it anyways. "

I can't agree more.

Walking

I've 'restricted', if that's the right term, my exercise to walking the past two days. Sunday I was out for two miles, and Monday 1.2. Unfortunately my bruised ribs aren't ready for lifting at the gym, and I was so wiped out by my ride Saturday I'm leery of riding any distance until I'm further along in my recovery.

As for recovery, it's been nine days since my accident, and I feel much better. As long as I don't do anything stupid, I should be OK in a couple of weeks. When I broke a rib in June 2008, I was riding long and hard in six weeks with little loss of conditioning. Of course, I was in much better condition then. 

Heroic Tales

Saturday morning I set out to ride the Bartram Trail section of the incomplete Schuylkill River Trail. I was still sore from a crash the weekend before, and didn't know how much riding I had in me, but I'd been off the bike for three days and I missed it. Also, the fall colors were calling me. So fortified by three Ibuprofen tablets, I headed an hour's drive north.

The plan had been to meet Sayre Kulp for breakfast at the Cracker Barrel in Hamburg at 10:00 AM for his post-race breakfast. I was running very late, and unfortunately Sayre's cell phone died on Friday. At 10:40 I was walking through the Cracker Barrel looking for my friend. As everyone stopped eating and stared at the sight of a fat man in Lycra, I scanned the faces in the crowd and didn't see my friend. So I left and went on to the trailhead at the desilting basin, and started down the trail.

I thought I'd glimpsed Sayre's car at the trailhead and figured I'd see him on the trail at some point.

The Bartram Trail is the most scenic section by far on the Schuylkill River Trail. The two to three per cent grade climbs up along the rock face, looking down on an active rail line and the river, and across to Blue Mountain. The six miles completed here pass by two towns, but not through them, and currently ends at an abandoned bridge. I rode carefully but with vigor, walking through bollards as a precaution, and soon reached the end of the trail. I didn't see Sayre. I thought about asking other riders and walkers on the trail if they'd seen him, but become stuck on how to describe him. "It's not like he's big anymore," I thought. "He could be anyone here."

I met a group of riders at the trail's end and spent 20 minutes talking with them. After I'd convinced them they all needed to ride the Great Allegheny Passage - yes, I am predictable, aren't I? - we turned around and headed back. Not before they took my photo, however.

I hadn't gone a hundred feet before someone I knew pulled up.

After Sayre filled me in on his race, the problems he encountered and overcame, and I congratulated him, we rode back down the trail. I didn't take photos on the way up, and now we stopped frequently to get shots. Sayre and I contemplated Blue Mountain:

We stopped at Port Clinton to admire the train station below. Sayre climbed down the Appalachian Trail steps while I observed from above.

As we rolled along our discussion turned thoughtful. My friend, as his recent thread about his 2011 goals shows, is still working through the fact that he's not 425 pounds anymore. To "turn away your former self" is a heroic tale; fortunately Sayre is up to the task.

Back at the trailhead Sayre borrowed my phone so he could call his ride. While we waited I let him ride Roark to get a feel for a Brooks saddle. He rode Roark like he stole him! I got my bike back, of course, and I might have just sold another saddle for Brooks. Then it was a quick trip down to the dam. The road was bumpy, but it was short and the drivers courteous. And the view was worth it.

We rode back to the trailhead, Sayre greeted his wife and loaded the bike on the rack, and they left. I still had a good bit of the day left, and with 14 some miles done I still had riding I could do. First I got food from a nearby gas station, and was rewarded when the clerk started flirting with me. She wasn't my type, and I was polite but cool. Still, in the parking lot, I thought "I'm a fat, sweaty, sloppy mess, and I'm not only awesome, but I still have "it."

I finished the day with a mile's walk in Port Clinton to see the train station Sayre had hiked down to, and then added another seven miles of riding into Hamburg, back down to the dam, and a mile back down the Bartram Trail to photograph a bridge. By now the bruised ribs were bothering me; I'd forgotten how much of the core muscles get used in riding. As the sunlight faded and my stomach began to bother me, I headed home.

I slept nearly 12 hours that night, and felt wiped out the next day. Obviously I overdid it, considering my injury.

Three days off

I've taken the last three days off from exercise while my bruised ribs heal. Depending on how I feel, I'm aiming for a ride Saturday morning at Hamburg, riding the trail from their to Auburn and back. By the time I drive to the trailhead the Ibuprofen will have kicked in and my discomfort will be manageable. Or so I hope.

I miss being active. 

Shakedown ride

My first ride after my crash Sunday was the local seven mile loop along French Creek. Aside from a bent front skewer, the bike was fine, and I didn't notice any problems aside from soreness in the expected places. I did need to take a two hour nap after the ride, which was unexpected. I had a wave of fatigue wash over me, and I collapsed onto the bed still in my riding gear.

French Creek at the confluence with Birch Run, photographed from the entrance to the Sheeder Hall bridge.

In Hamburg

My two days off work had been damaged by my accident on Sunday. But I wanted to salvage what I could of them, so once the rain cleared I headed north to Hamburg for a ride on the Bartram Trail section of the Schuylkill River Trail. I put in five miles, being limited by the onset of darkness and the 'catch' in my breathing I later diagnosed as a cracked rib.

Still, it was worth it. Fall in Penn's Woodlands is a riot of color, as this view north on the Schuylkill River shows.

A Crashing Success

My ride on Sunday with my friend Sayre was a crashing success in more than one way. Oh, our trip from the Reading Area Community College parking lot up the Union Canal Trail was wonderful. We turned around at Blue Marsh lake after taking in the views from the visitor's center. Sayre is both a thoughtful conversationalist and a rider considerate of my abilities, and this trip wasn't the hammerfest some such rides can be. After lunch with Sayre's wife and child we rode for an additional mile or so down the connecting Neversink Trail. We turned around just before the end and rode back to RACC. I told Sayre I was going to ride back down the trail to the end, and his parting words to me were "be safe."

Ten minutes later I was sprawled on the street, having misjudged the angle as I crossed abandoned railroad tracks on Canal Street, in front of the Canal Street Pub. I breathed deeply as I got up and inspected myself. I had full range of motion in my limbs, and no constriction in my chest. My left knee took the fall the hardest, but fortunately I was wearing tights so there was no road rash. Roark had his bell broken, and the front skewer damaged. I had to remove and replace the wheel so I could ride. That done, I continued to the end of the trail and then rode back to RACC and my car.

Overnight the swelling in my left knee went down. However, by Tuesday I'd noticed a 'catch' in my left chest when I took a deep breath or moved the 'wrong' way. It appears I have at least cracked, if not broken, a rib. My previous experience with a broken rib was in June 2008, after a crash in Cumberland, MD. That put me out of action for six weeks. This crack doesn't seem to be as severe, so I'll be cautious in riding and hiking while I continue to  exercise outside.

Advice to a friend

 My friend Sayre has lost 145 pounds over the past year. He recently posted to Bike Forums about it, and solicited advice on future goals. I wrote the following about regaining weight in the future.

"My biggest fear is a backslide...'"

Since no one has touched this, and I have some experience with both a rapid loss of a lot of weight and, err, backsliding, here are my thoughts.

1. Get rid of the fat man's clothes, both physical and mental. Having stuff in your closet that you swim in loses its charm after a while. And it's a constant reminder that you CAN go back. I gave away to Goodwill in Pottstown most of my wardrobe aside from shoes and underwear once I dropped a hundred pounds. I kept a belt I'd punched holes in as I lost weight, and a couple of 4x t shirts for the gym, but the rest of it went away. As for new clothes, I'm a good bargain shopper, and I found I could pretty much shop anywhere as a thinner man.

If you can't afford to replace your entire wardrobe, get at least one or two items that make you look good. A t shirt and jeans are fine, as long as they flatter the new you. Heck, I'm as Conservative as they come, and this is what shows me at my best - a t shirt another Bike Forums member gave me when he lost weight:


2. Don't expect weight loss to solve all your problems and slay your demons. In fact, it might bring up stuff you've been putting off and neglecting. That's my biggest failing; being 400 pounds is hiding for me, and probably for other people too. My chronic low self-esteem and inability to handle stress helped bring me back up in weight. Don't let whatever you've been putting off become a reason for or a mechanism to a backslide.

3. Maintenance is going to be as hard or as easy as loss. I was told by someone who had been maintaining a 100 pound loss that I wasn't ready to learn how she did it; "you'd think it defeat when it's really victory" she told me. I maintained for about a year with only a small gain, and then crumbled as the economy did in 2008.

4. Expect your relationships to change with people. Your wife has been constantly supportive of you, and her price is truly above rubies; but other people will become sounding brass. I can't say my own experience is typical, but for the record my weight loss cost me one friendship as it created others - yours included. It also changed my work relationships; there were people in my office who were upset with me for losing weight. (One woman even said so, and apologized for feeling that way.) I share a house with two friends, and they've had to deal with an undemanding couch potato all of a sudden filling the garage with bikes, having people over, wearing Lycra in public, and breaking stuff left and right. Be prepared to work with friends as they deal with Sayre Model 2.0.

5. At some point look at yourself in the mirror, and say aloud "Sayre, you're awesome." Do it when you need to, and do it when you don't.

6. Start the "I Love Me" wall Tom Stormcrowe suggested. Or get someone to start one for you. I know one Bike Forums poster who was surprised on his birthday with a collage of photos of himself. (No, it wasn't me.)

7. And don't forget 425 pounds was a living death. Now you live every day.