*******************************************************************
Hi,
In the course of editing my Born To Run post a couple of weeks ago, I removed some ideas that I decided I wanted to explore in more detail with a separate post (this one!).
They are, in a sense, little editorials. Although these comments relate to the book, they are not written about explicitly in the text. Some of it is idle speculation on my part, other parts are opinions.
There are some messy cases of pure emotion- but I think I had no choice.
Enjoy.
*******************************************************************
I. When did I first learn to run?
I cannot recall the day I learned 'how to run'. In fact, I cannot recall ever being taught how to run at all. This seems strange given that I spent most of my youth on various sports teams- all I can do is state the facts.
These sports all involved running, usually at all times (except swimming). However, I received more instruction in how to properly shoot a basketball- even after I became one of the best shooters in my high school- than I did in running- where I was at best 'industrious' but never objectively fast (or even quick). I received more instruction in how to properly bench press even though the opportunities to power lift at the foul line come few and far between.
Everyone took running technique for granted- apparently, you can't teach height and maybe you shouldn't teach running technique. When I go out today and watch fellow runners, I see a diversity of technique that would require several blog posts to properly describe. This observation makes me certain that my experience as a youth was about standard for most kids at that time.
The lack of instruction for proper running technique is not observed among other popular exercise regimens. Yoga classes, for one, appear to stress the need for correct posture and technique (*). I would bet that the first five minutes of any weightlifting class involves stressing the need for correct posture and technique (**).
Born To Run was a great gift. It delivered a harsh message- imitate thoughtfully- but delivered it in a considerate way- without the sting that often accompanies the discovery that you were always doing something wrong.
*******************************************************************
II. Everyone walks the same way and everyone sprints the same way- so how do you know where to draw the line?
When it comes to our slowest and fastest forms of bipedal movement- walking and sprinting- most people seem to share identical techniques. Walking involves the heel striking the ground first with arms hanging loosely to the side, sprinting involves striking the ground first with the front portion of the foot while the arms pump vigorously.
In terms of speed, jogging falls somewhere between sprinting and walking. I recall considering that the only logical thing way to jog would entail either a fast walk (heel strike) or a slow sprint (forefoot strike).
In other words, I just simply had to decide if I was a slow sprinter or a fast walker. All the other 'noise' of the running technique conversation was irrelevant after that point.
My conclusion- sprinters all tend to be very fit, therefore I should take my chances and go with the 'slow sprint'. Not much of a deliberation process, I suppose, but it has a certain logic to it.
*******************************************************************
III. So this running technique is my opinion because...
My fear while writing the first Born To Run post was accidentally stating what I thought the 'right' technique for long distance running might be. There is a lot of conflicting evidence out there and I wanted to focus on the facts- what happened in the book and how it changed my running. Taking a stance on what 'correct' technique fell outside the scope of that post (*).
Some people (non-runners) ask me about 'runner's high'- what's it like, I'm asked. And I have no clue because I've forgotten- I don't think I get runner's high anymore.
From what I remember, runner's high happens at some point during a run. But what happens for me usually starts in the first minute- the sensation of landing feels good on my feet and I maintain that feeling for more or less the duration of the run.
I might occasionally laugh out loud while running. This used to happen but only if I was listening to a funny podcast- now it just happens. I don't bother with podcasts anymore- I usually listen to music and try to sing aloud (*).
Now, saying I no longer enjoy these 'outcomes' is untrue. But I find that I almost never raise the topics in conversation. People tend to find out from third parties that I run for several hours per week. I almost never run to meet some time objective or mileage goal- I just run while I enjoy it and stop running when this is no longer the case. I rarely talk about my training regimen because I am no longer training for anything (*).
But to say this technique would be best means defining 'best'. For many, myself included, the best technique is one that allows them to reach their goals while leaving them injury-free. I guess it begs the question- what's my injury history?
III (pt 2)- Injury history
Sometimes, I think it is important to state the facts.
The facts show that I switched up my running technique in the fall of 2011. I have suffered two major running injuries since the fall of 2011. This is two more major running injuries than I suffered prior to the fall of 2011.
I'm living in denial of the facts, it seems.
The first injury came in October 2012 and I am 95% confident that it was an IT band overuse injury. The second one came in the second half of March, 2015, and seems in hindsight to be an overuse injury that manifested in a strained (or exhausted) muscle on the outside of my right shin. Both injuries kept me from running at all for four weeks and greatly reduced my mileage for several months afterward (*).
I can look back and explain how my injuries came about using that general framework. Let's start with the 2012 injury- in short, my left hip proved too weak to support my running. The strain increased on the surrounding areas- knee, hamstring, etc- and eventually caused an injury. The pain manifested in my left knee but the source was a lack of strength in the left hip.
Although pain from an overuse injury can manifest anywhere and can be alleviated by directly treating the symptoms, the injury is not properly healed until the weaker body part can sustain its share of the burden without help from neighboring body parts. It is like having a headache from dehydration (*)- painkillers will help the headache but nothing is actually healed until you drink a little bit of water.
The question brings me to my second reason for no longer entertaining a return to my old technique- I've really come to rely on running to get me through difficult times. Prior to the fall of 2011, this was not the case- maybe I did something else back then, but I like running quite a bit more.
This injury came at a time of great emotional turmoil for me. The pain in my leg showed up just days after my mom was admitted to the hospital. The symptoms hinted at possible complications from her breast cancer invading her new organs.
This inner turmoil caused harm in ways that strongly parallel the overuse concept I describe above. In my case, I simply did not have the emotional capacity to handle the events in my life. Running became a sanctuary for me because I could use the activity as a crutch to help me get through difficult days. So, to make the connection, I relied on the strength of my running ability to help carry the extra burden that I was emotionally unable to bear.
Unfortunately, adding extra miles eventually proved too much to handle physically. In the same way that my overburdened hip led to my left knee eventually giving out in 2012, it seems that my body gave out in March 2015 from being asked to carry too much of the excess emotional burden.
So, in the same way that targeting my left hip for strength training was the required step to prevent further recurrences of that injury, I have spent quite some time in the past year considering what the equivalent targeting must be in order to prevent a recurrence of...who knows what to call it- emotional over running?- to deal with the inevitable hardships and turmoil that I will encounter in my remainingcenturies
decades of life.
Many have suggested to me that emotional injuries heal over time. Although I have never doubted the best intentions of these comments for a single second and understand that this wisdom being shared with me is the hard-earned kind that grows from each person's own unique experiences, I am ready to conclude that this particular piece of wisdom will not work for me. It's been long enough to conclude that it isn't working for me. I suppose I could wait a little longer but my sense is that I need something else to complete the process.
The first injury provides a clue to what might be missing. This injury required targeted rehabilitation of my hip and the surrounding muscles. Without doing this, I was doomed to see the injury return because nothing fundamentally was different about my running process or the body involved in that process. To put it differently, without an underlying improvement in hip strength, I was always going to reach a point where increased mileage would prove too much for the hip. Eventually, a new overuse injury would expose the underlying weakness in the hip.
This logic suggests that I need to target my soul to strengthen it in preparation of bearing burdens to come. A resilient soul should allow running to serve its role as part of a healthy emotional solution, not as an overworked component of a fragmented solution which ultimately proved destructive last March.
But how does one fortify the heart, how does one bolster the soul- and in a way that accepts hurt? What I worried about most was the possibility that this process, done carelessly, ran the risk of turning my heart into something like a solid rock- unbreakable, but only because it deflects, ignores, or repels.
I was looking for something different to help craft an approach and found compelling concepts from two books that I have read in the past year.
First, a striking analogy from How To Love, by Thich Nhat Hanh. It describes how a handful of salt poured into a cup of water will ruin the drink- however, the same salt poured into a clear lake will make the water no less drinkable.
The analogy is clear- the trials and challenges that we all face are the salt, our capacity to bear hurt in our hearts represented by the water- the bigger the heart, the better equipped it is to accept the challenges. It requires us all to try and expand our hearts in the best ways we can so that the salt thrown at us is absorbed without tainting what lies within.
Expanding the heart can be done in so many ways- expressing your love for others, pouring all of yourself into a project that matters to you, giving selflessly to those needing generosity.
A second idea I really like is what Cheryl Strayed gets at a little bit in Tiny Beautiful Things complements the idea by showing one possibility of what can be done within an expanded heart. She says that to heal, we must rebuild.
It takes many small steps to do this. We must first address the ruins, the rubble, of what once stood. It must be acknowledge that what existed was valuable, was important, to prepare us for the impossible undertaking of clearing it out. Until we do this, we cannot begin the real work of healing- building again, maybe even on top of the same sites where we were just obliterated.
We need beautiful places in our hearts, places that stand like temples and cathedrals, to honor what is eternally important to us. They give our treasured memories a home and provide a platform from which we can reach out to what will stretch our souls next. These places allow us to talk to our pain when we begin to heal, rest comfortably when we need to recover, and identify the very best to share when we wish to reminisce.
III (pt 3)- So, injuries history?
I suppose the above is all moot, in one sense, if I separated my running from the rest of my life. Compartmentalizing is a healthy short-term approach in the right circumstances (an idea I intend to write more about next month). The body breaks when physical limits are exceeded- understanding how salt interacts with a lake is not going to change that (*).
This is why I am not considering the other obvious approach- to admit defeat in the face of injury by scaling back on intensity or mileage. To do so would be to permanently put what has become part of me away somewhere, not be heard from again, and it is not the right time to do this.
There is no better feeling than being true to yourself. For me to live up to this ideal, I think I do need to be able to stomp around for a couple of extra miles to recharge after a tough day- that means I need to do some soul-stretching work, too. I need to do it because the next time I am not dealing properly with something, I know I'll turn to my running shoes, and I have no interest in repeating the same overuse injury for a second time.
*******************************************************************
Hi again,
Thanks as always for reading. Quick reminder that I'll be back on Monday next week, not Tuesday, and that the Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule will hold up for the month of April. The next two posts will be about Lost In Translation and the words I liked from it.
Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.
Tim
In the course of editing my Born To Run post a couple of weeks ago, I removed some ideas that I decided I wanted to explore in more detail with a separate post (this one!).
They are, in a sense, little editorials. Although these comments relate to the book, they are not written about explicitly in the text. Some of it is idle speculation on my part, other parts are opinions.
There are some messy cases of pure emotion- but I think I had no choice.
Enjoy.
*******************************************************************
I. When did I first learn to run?
I cannot recall the day I learned 'how to run'. In fact, I cannot recall ever being taught how to run at all. This seems strange given that I spent most of my youth on various sports teams- all I can do is state the facts.
These sports all involved running, usually at all times (except swimming). However, I received more instruction in how to properly shoot a basketball- even after I became one of the best shooters in my high school- than I did in running- where I was at best 'industrious' but never objectively fast (or even quick). I received more instruction in how to properly bench press even though the opportunities to power lift at the foul line come few and far between.
Everyone took running technique for granted- apparently, you can't teach height and maybe you shouldn't teach running technique. When I go out today and watch fellow runners, I see a diversity of technique that would require several blog posts to properly describe. This observation makes me certain that my experience as a youth was about standard for most kids at that time.
The lack of instruction for proper running technique is not observed among other popular exercise regimens. Yoga classes, for one, appear to stress the need for correct posture and technique (*). I would bet that the first five minutes of any weightlifting class involves stressing the need for correct posture and technique (**).
*My guess, since I do not do yogaBut I cannot recall anyone I know reporting the results of the 'running lessons' they took before lacing up their sneakers for the first time (*).
**My guess, since I do not lift weights
*My 'study', as we might call these preceding paragraphs, has a sample size of two. This whole 'running lessons' bit is a classic application of using absence of evidence as evidence of absence- and this is an application that should never be trusted under any circumstances- so keep in mind that I am still idly speculating here.These reflections force additional questions. First, what do I do today that was influenced by habits created in my developmental period? How thorough was I with my thought process during this developmental period? What else do I do today as a result of being entirely reliant on those around me to set examples or give me direction when I am unsure how to proceed?
Born To Run was a great gift. It delivered a harsh message- imitate thoughtfully- but delivered it in a considerate way- without the sting that often accompanies the discovery that you were always doing something wrong.
*******************************************************************
II. Everyone walks the same way and everyone sprints the same way- so how do you know where to draw the line?
When it comes to our slowest and fastest forms of bipedal movement- walking and sprinting- most people seem to share identical techniques. Walking involves the heel striking the ground first with arms hanging loosely to the side, sprinting involves striking the ground first with the front portion of the foot while the arms pump vigorously.
In terms of speed, jogging falls somewhere between sprinting and walking. I recall considering that the only logical thing way to jog would entail either a fast walk (heel strike) or a slow sprint (forefoot strike).
In other words, I just simply had to decide if I was a slow sprinter or a fast walker. All the other 'noise' of the running technique conversation was irrelevant after that point.
My conclusion- sprinters all tend to be very fit, therefore I should take my chances and go with the 'slow sprint'. Not much of a deliberation process, I suppose, but it has a certain logic to it.
*******************************************************************
III. So this running technique is my opinion because...
My fear while writing the first Born To Run post was accidentally stating what I thought the 'right' technique for long distance running might be. There is a lot of conflicting evidence out there and I wanted to focus on the facts- what happened in the book and how it changed my running. Taking a stance on what 'correct' technique fell outside the scope of that post (*).
*Plenty of people lead very fulfilling running lives using one technique or the other and I find it highly unlikely that there is a universal 'best' technique for everybody- like with many things, each person will need to find the technique that works best for their body and running goals.All that said, if I could go back and undo my decision to switch my running technique back in the autumn of 2011- there is no way I would do so. If I was offered a blank check to switch back to my old technique, I would turn it down (*).
*Probably.There are a couple of reasons for this. First, I have a lot of fun running. I enjoy each stride in the run and literally look forward to each upcoming step of the journey. This became true only after I changed up my running technique. Running itself up until then was fine but sometimes it was miserable, too- maybe my heel would hurt or I would slip and fall in bad weather conditions. These issues, among other little ailments, went away after I changed up my technique.
Some people (non-runners) ask me about 'runner's high'- what's it like, I'm asked. And I have no clue because I've forgotten- I don't think I get runner's high anymore.
From what I remember, runner's high happens at some point during a run. But what happens for me usually starts in the first minute- the sensation of landing feels good on my feet and I maintain that feeling for more or less the duration of the run.
I might occasionally laugh out loud while running. This used to happen but only if I was listening to a funny podcast- now it just happens. I don't bother with podcasts anymore- I usually listen to music and try to sing aloud (*).
*In addition to being more fun, it also helps keep track of my pace- if keeping up with the lyrics leaves me out of breath, it is usually a good sign I am running too fast.Before I read Born To Run, you could say I enjoyed the 'pageantry' of running more than I did the actual activity. I liked what running said about me more than I liked actually running. I looked at outcomes to derive the worth of this activity. I enjoying tallying up the miles, considering myself 'a runner', and talking to people about my training regimen more than I ever enjoyed the time I spent on a run.
Now, saying I no longer enjoy these 'outcomes' is untrue. But I find that I almost never raise the topics in conversation. People tend to find out from third parties that I run for several hours per week. I almost never run to meet some time objective or mileage goal- I just run while I enjoy it and stop running when this is no longer the case. I rarely talk about my training regimen because I am no longer training for anything (*).
*On the other hand, since I am blogging about all this stuff, I suppose it might be the case that this entire paragraph is now moot. Oh well- at least this was all true an hour ago.I feel this is the right technique for me and I suspect that many would see an improvement in their running experience if they made a similar switch. This is not based on logic in the scientific sense (although there are plenty of logical arguments for it, many covered by the book in expert detail). My conviction is pure emotion with a splash of personal experience.
But to say this technique would be best means defining 'best'. For many, myself included, the best technique is one that allows them to reach their goals while leaving them injury-free. I guess it begs the question- what's my injury history?
III (pt 2)- Injury history
Sometimes, I think it is important to state the facts.
The facts show that I switched up my running technique in the fall of 2011. I have suffered two major running injuries since the fall of 2011. This is two more major running injuries than I suffered prior to the fall of 2011.
I'm living in denial of the facts, it seems.
The first injury came in October 2012 and I am 95% confident that it was an IT band overuse injury. The second one came in the second half of March, 2015, and seems in hindsight to be an overuse injury that manifested in a strained (or exhausted) muscle on the outside of my right shin. Both injuries kept me from running at all for four weeks and greatly reduced my mileage for several months afterward (*).
*Simply put, overuse means running too much.My simplified, non-technical explanation for overuse injuries is: I suspect overuse injuries originate when a strength takes on too much of the extra burden that a weakness is unable to tolerate.
I can look back and explain how my injuries came about using that general framework. Let's start with the 2012 injury- in short, my left hip proved too weak to support my running. The strain increased on the surrounding areas- knee, hamstring, etc- and eventually caused an injury. The pain manifested in my left knee but the source was a lack of strength in the left hip.
Although pain from an overuse injury can manifest anywhere and can be alleviated by directly treating the symptoms, the injury is not properly healed until the weaker body part can sustain its share of the burden without help from neighboring body parts. It is like having a headache from dehydration (*)- painkillers will help the headache but nothing is actually healed until you drink a little bit of water.
*'A hangover'I am almost entirely sure I understand the root physical cause of this injury and feel very sure that my current strength training regimen combined with better restraint on mileage increases is preventing recurrence of this type of injury (*).
*I'm almost sure of this because this injury did not respond to rest. Instead, I would feel better, then the injury would flare up a few weeks later (and bring me back to step one in my recovery). It was only until I began strength exercises specifically targeting this hip did I notice recovery through improved running performance.So, having accumulated all this advanced sports injury knowledge, how did I manage to have a second overuse injury in March 2015?
The big breakthrough came when I sprained my right ankle in early 2014. I did more rehab work on that injury than I ever did for the hip. These exercises generally involved balancing on the injured ankle and doing a variety of exercises- standing straight up on my toes, walking slowly (also on my toes), bouncing on two feet (still on the toes!) in a swimming pool.
Over time, I increased the burden and intensity of the rehab- jumping straight up and down on my toes, hopping on the injured ankle, sprinting in the swimming pool- and found that, although grueling, the ankle healed as strong as it was prior to the injury. I began to do the same with the hip- reverse planks, single-leg dead lifts, wall squats- and, slowly, I am starting to see results.
The question brings me to my second reason for no longer entertaining a return to my old technique- I've really come to rely on running to get me through difficult times. Prior to the fall of 2011, this was not the case- maybe I did something else back then, but I like running quite a bit more.
This injury came at a time of great emotional turmoil for me. The pain in my leg showed up just days after my mom was admitted to the hospital. The symptoms hinted at possible complications from her breast cancer invading her new organs.
This inner turmoil caused harm in ways that strongly parallel the overuse concept I describe above. In my case, I simply did not have the emotional capacity to handle the events in my life. Running became a sanctuary for me because I could use the activity as a crutch to help me get through difficult days. So, to make the connection, I relied on the strength of my running ability to help carry the extra burden that I was emotionally unable to bear.
Unfortunately, adding extra miles eventually proved too much to handle physically. In the same way that my overburdened hip led to my left knee eventually giving out in 2012, it seems that my body gave out in March 2015 from being asked to carry too much of the excess emotional burden.
So, in the same way that targeting my left hip for strength training was the required step to prevent further recurrences of that injury, I have spent quite some time in the past year considering what the equivalent targeting must be in order to prevent a recurrence of...who knows what to call it- emotional over running?- to deal with the inevitable hardships and turmoil that I will encounter in my remaining
Many have suggested to me that emotional injuries heal over time. Although I have never doubted the best intentions of these comments for a single second and understand that this wisdom being shared with me is the hard-earned kind that grows from each person's own unique experiences, I am ready to conclude that this particular piece of wisdom will not work for me. It's been long enough to conclude that it isn't working for me. I suppose I could wait a little longer but my sense is that I need something else to complete the process.
The first injury provides a clue to what might be missing. This injury required targeted rehabilitation of my hip and the surrounding muscles. Without doing this, I was doomed to see the injury return because nothing fundamentally was different about my running process or the body involved in that process. To put it differently, without an underlying improvement in hip strength, I was always going to reach a point where increased mileage would prove too much for the hip. Eventually, a new overuse injury would expose the underlying weakness in the hip.
This logic suggests that I need to target my soul to strengthen it in preparation of bearing burdens to come. A resilient soul should allow running to serve its role as part of a healthy emotional solution, not as an overworked component of a fragmented solution which ultimately proved destructive last March.
But how does one fortify the heart, how does one bolster the soul- and in a way that accepts hurt? What I worried about most was the possibility that this process, done carelessly, ran the risk of turning my heart into something like a solid rock- unbreakable, but only because it deflects, ignores, or repels.
I was looking for something different to help craft an approach and found compelling concepts from two books that I have read in the past year.
First, a striking analogy from How To Love, by Thich Nhat Hanh. It describes how a handful of salt poured into a cup of water will ruin the drink- however, the same salt poured into a clear lake will make the water no less drinkable.
The analogy is clear- the trials and challenges that we all face are the salt, our capacity to bear hurt in our hearts represented by the water- the bigger the heart, the better equipped it is to accept the challenges. It requires us all to try and expand our hearts in the best ways we can so that the salt thrown at us is absorbed without tainting what lies within.
Expanding the heart can be done in so many ways- expressing your love for others, pouring all of yourself into a project that matters to you, giving selflessly to those needing generosity.
A second idea I really like is what Cheryl Strayed gets at a little bit in Tiny Beautiful Things complements the idea by showing one possibility of what can be done within an expanded heart. She says that to heal, we must rebuild.
It takes many small steps to do this. We must first address the ruins, the rubble, of what once stood. It must be acknowledge that what existed was valuable, was important, to prepare us for the impossible undertaking of clearing it out. Until we do this, we cannot begin the real work of healing- building again, maybe even on top of the same sites where we were just obliterated.
We need beautiful places in our hearts, places that stand like temples and cathedrals, to honor what is eternally important to us. They give our treasured memories a home and provide a platform from which we can reach out to what will stretch our souls next. These places allow us to talk to our pain when we begin to heal, rest comfortably when we need to recover, and identify the very best to share when we wish to reminisce.
III (pt 3)- So, injuries history?
I suppose the above is all moot, in one sense, if I separated my running from the rest of my life. Compartmentalizing is a healthy short-term approach in the right circumstances (an idea I intend to write more about next month). The body breaks when physical limits are exceeded- understanding how salt interacts with a lake is not going to change that (*).
*And asking your physician to help you pour concrete into your heart so you can set a foundation for a temple is going to be met with, at best, quizzical looks.That said, I always feel at my best when I am fully involved in each minute of my life. There is nothing wrong with taking a part of your personality and hanging it on the coat rack, so to speak, when you make a daily transition from one part of your life to another, but I find that this experience wears me down over time.
This is why I am not considering the other obvious approach- to admit defeat in the face of injury by scaling back on intensity or mileage. To do so would be to permanently put what has become part of me away somewhere, not be heard from again, and it is not the right time to do this.
There is no better feeling than being true to yourself. For me to live up to this ideal, I think I do need to be able to stomp around for a couple of extra miles to recharge after a tough day- that means I need to do some soul-stretching work, too. I need to do it because the next time I am not dealing properly with something, I know I'll turn to my running shoes, and I have no interest in repeating the same overuse injury for a second time.
*******************************************************************
Hi again,
Thanks as always for reading. Quick reminder that I'll be back on Monday next week, not Tuesday, and that the Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule will hold up for the month of April. The next two posts will be about Lost In Translation and the words I liked from it.
Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.
Tim
