Back to the Treadmill

A couple weekends ago I attended a triathlon camp. It was held in Chicago by my awesome triathlon coach Jen, her rock star (and adorable :)) triathlete husband Jerome, and pro triathlete Spencer Smith. The weekend was encyclopedic in the volume of information shared, not to mention the collective decades of experience between the three of them that they also generously shared.

The weather was surprisingly nice for January in Chicago. Normally temperatures dip into the negatives overnight and may make it above 10F in the afternoon. Last weekend it was in the teens in the morning, in the 30s Saturday afternoon, and a sweater-only 47F Sunday afternoon when we left to drive home. A nice gift for a weekend of concentrated information, efforts, minds -- and pain.

The camp hurt – a lot – and not just physically. We biked moderately hard for 2 hours Saturday morning, did core exercises after lunch, and then ran for 40 minutes outside. My quads were already burning from the morning ride, and I had a hard time with some of the core exercises. 10 of us went out for the run and I was relatively certain I would be among the slowest – and I was. Spencer came around to chat with us for a minute and then he ambled off (even his ambling was faster than my “tempo”) to join the rest of the herd. With a sinking heart I watched the group pull away. One other athlete ran with me; she was recovering from a 2-week bout with the flu as well as some other health issues that made it understandable for her speed to be limited. My legs were churning away at 88 footstrikes/minute, heart rate humming along in Zone 2-3 – and I was still being left behind.

I headed back to the gym after 35 minutes, discouraged to say the least. The group returned within 5 minutes and we assembled in the aerobics studio. Spencer said “Anyone have any questions?” It was the only entry I needed. I shouted “I wanna know why I’m slow!” There is a verse in the Bible that says “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” and this was a perfect example of the truth rising from the deep well of my heart. My heart hurt – and so did my ego. From Ironman to this? I had more demons that I wanted to admit.

Turns out all the marathons (7 of them) that I’ve completed since 2001, and all the other endurance running – including Ironman -- have taught me to run LSD-style…no, not the drugs (though sometimes I’ve felt higher than I’m sure any artificial substance could deliver), the other runner-kind of LSD – Long Slow Distance. Endurance is my middle name. Life’s circumstances, as well as my chosen sport, bestowed that gift on a silver platter. I can go all day long. I just can’t go all day long fast.

At least not right now. So it’s back to the treadmill for some technical work – footwork, that is. The treadmill is boring, YES. In fact I’ve often put in my training log the words “I really hate the treadmill” – who wants the same scenery going by for 45+ minutes? But the treadmill also keeps you honest in terms of your cadence, grade, and overall speed whether you like it or not. If the treadmill is properly calibrated - and most of them are - the numbers don’t lie. If you want to get faster, your body has no choice but to learn a “pawing” footstrike, speedy leg turnover, upright posture, and a correct toe-off – a perfect recipe for becoming a more efficient and FASTER runner.

It’s not only the physical side. The mind is the command center of pushing to performance peaks, and I’ve yet to master this important aspect of athletics as well. During tri camp weekend, another athlete also recommended two books that deal with the mental side of running. They are The Mental Athlete and Brain Training for Runners (thank you Stacy!). I’ve bought them both and have begun reading. For years I’ve underestimated the power of the mind to affect performance; as with most people, I am my own worst enemy.

It’s February and the dead of winter – plenty of time to work on my skills both physically and mentally. Will I miss running outside every chance I get? You bet, but there are endless hills, grassy trails, and the spectacular solitude of early-dawn mornings waiting for me anytime, not to mention a magnificent opportunity for self-improvement that comes along whenever I’m ready to handle it.

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena…who spends himself in a worthy cause…”