Confessions of a backslidden trail runner

A scene from the last time I did a trail race. It’s been awhile. (Clint Green photo)

It’s no secret that I like to hit the trails whenever I can. Hiking has been a passion of mine for a while now, and when I moved to Tulsa I found an urban trail area that is built for not just hiking, but trail running.

It didn’t take long for me to dive deep into that. I’d been running some by that point, but trail running was a whole other animal, something that I took to within weeks. I bought trail shoes, joined a trail running group and spent whatever free time I had learning the park’s trail system. Hell, I ran a 25K trail race before I completed by first half marathon. I quickly – and proudly – identified as a trail runner.

Fast forward to the present day. Between those early days of excitement, when getting my dirt on was fresh and new, to now, I’ve put on some miles. Raced a bunch of races. Tripped over who knows how many rocks, roots and stumps while winding my way through the woods. Even repped a manufacturer of trail running shoes for a couple of years.

This brings up the need to confess something. I haven’t been in a trail race in nearly two years.

For that matter, I haven’t run on trails since last summer.

Scandalous, right?

It’s not like I haven’t been running. And it’s not like I haven’t been on the trails. I just haven’t run on the trails. It made me feel like a phony for a while, but then I got busy with other things and didn’t think about it much.

But this weekend, I’m breaking this unfortunate streak. I entered a 10K trail race close to home. I’ve run it before – the 10K and the 25K – and both races kicked my ass. And I’m sure it will again.

I also believe the trail running gods are seeing this as bit of revenge toward me for my lack of fealty. I’m not in great shape, and the weather forecast looks absolutely terrible: low 30s to start, with rain all morning. This, on a course known to hold a lot of water when it rains even the slightest. I predict a lot of slipping, shivering, falling and humiliation on my part. The trail gods’ judgment will be severe for this backslidden acolyte.

So be it. I’ve missed the trail running race scene. Road runners are great, as are their races. But the flavor of a trail race gathering is its own thing – admirable, fun, weird and always a party, even under the most miserable circumstances.

My goals are simple. First, finish the damn thing. And second, try not to finish last. So wish me luck. It’s been awhile since I’ve raced in the dirt. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten how.

Bob Doucette

Advertisements

Another look at training, performance and being ready to climb mountains

The high country can be fun if you’re physically ready for it.

I’m in a group on Facebook that deals with strength and fitness, and the administrator of that group asked me to post something there about what I do for conditioning in terms of being in what I call “mountain shape.”

This is an evolving thing for me, but over the years I’ve found some things that have worked well, and others not as much. Anyway, I figured I’d share that here, just in case some of you were looking at ideas for getting ready for hikes and climbs in the mountains, particularly when the altitude is high. Keep in mind, this is a post for a group that is focused on people focused on strength training, so it’s going to have a bias toward that and away from endurance athletics. That said, I think these ideas are fairly universal for people wanting to perform better at altitude. Have a read, and feel free to chime in with a few of your own ideas.

***

I’m a big fan of Ed Viesturs, the first American to summit all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks. He’s a beast on the hill. His primary ways of getting in shape: He runs 8 miles a pop, and he guides on Mount Rainier. That’s what got me into running.

BUT… as we all know, a lot of steady-state cardio can have negatives. Especially if you’re trying to build muscle. Steady state has its place. Lifting coach Tony Gentilcore wrote an entire post about its benefits in developing capillary density, aerobic capacity, etc. (he’s a legit lifter, too; can pull 600+ on the deadlift). But the body adapts to endless steady state cardio over time, and its benefits diminish. Meanwhile, lots of weekly mileage running can start to eat away muscle and sap strength. Metabolic changes can also occur, making it harder to maintain leanness over time. So what’s the middle ground? Some ideas:

You can get your run on without having to run tons of miles. Intervals, negative splits and sprints will get you in shape.

Intervals: You can do this in a number of ways. I like doing 8 repetitions of 400-meter runs. I push these hard, take a 90-second break, then do the next one a little faster. You can vary distances, too. 200-meter intervals at faster speeds can get a lot of work done. If you’re a real sadist, 800-meter intervals. If you can get to the point where you’re doing 8×800 or 10×800, you’re gonna be one tough mutha when it comes to stamina.

Sprints: 40- to 50-meter sprints are awesome. A hard sprint workout will not only get that conditioning benefit, but it will also enhance overall power and athleticism. That said, if you’re not used to doing sprints, ease into these at first. Someone who isn’t used to doing sprints, then shows up at the track and goes all out is asking for an injury. Do your homework, start conservatively, then work up to it. Sprinting is a skill. Check out this link for more.

Negative splits: A “split” is a term used to describe the time you run a specific length of a run. So on a 3-mile run, you could have three “splits” of a mile apiece. A negative split describes when a runner runs each split faster than the one before. This is a TOUGH workout. How I do it: I jog the first mile, easy pace. Second mile, I run at a goal “race pace.” Conversation at this pace would be difficult, as in short, infrequent sentences. On the last mile, I speed up again at a “suicide” pace. It’s not a sprint, but it’s fast enough that finishing that last mile at that speed is not guaranteed. You might want to ralph when it’s over. Great builder of VO max/mental toughness.

Take your fitness outside the gym to get in mountain shape. Go hike. Go climb. (Brady Lee photo)

As for conditioning specific to the mountains, I’d suggest three things. First, you gotta hike. Hike hills. Carry a loaded pack. Spend a few hours out there. Second, you gotta climb. If you’re going to tackle a mountain that’s not a walk-up, you need to put your body through the movements you’ll use on the peak. Find a local crag, go to a climbing gym, etc. It’s practice. Lastly, become friends with the stairmaster. Yeah, it’s an inside-the-gym machine, but it works all the muscles used in going uphill. Try increasing your speed as you go to mimic the increased aerobic demand of elevation gain.

Don’t forget to lift!

And as always, keep lifting. Your lifts should be based on the four basic movements: Squat, hip-hinge, press and pull. All of these are useful on the peaks, in building strength, and in everyday life.

How it looks for me: I lift Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. For conditioning, I do the stairmaster on Monday; short tempo run (steady state, race pace) Tuesday; longer run OR hill run OR negative split run on Wednesdays (this will be a high-demand conditioning day); stairmaster or HIIT on Thursday; medium-length tempo run Fridays. Saturday is an outdoors day. So I’ll go hike, climb, or do a long bike ride. I keep Saturdays open and fun, but fun with a purpose. Sundays I chill.

So there you have it. Again, if you’ve got your own ideas, let’s hear about it in the comments. And for more on this topic, check out this post.

Bob Doucette

A snapshot of the fall race season

Those fall long runs.

I do this thing every year when once the summer mountain trips come to a close, I get more serious about running and start training for fall races.

It usually goes down like this:

Step 1: I create a training schedule. It’s usually a mashup of something Hal Higdon has built, customized with a few things I think I need, and studded with weight training workouts. I wouldn’t advise following my lead. I’m not a running coach and am a confirmed midpack runner. If you really want to be successful, hire a coach. Or experiment like me and see what happens. The former is probably going to have a higher rate of success; the latter will be more interesting.

Step 2: Spend the first month of training bitching about how out of shape I am, bitching about the heat, and bitching about being too heavy, too beat up and too old to do this anymore. But I do it anyway because the thought of quitting a training program for any reason other than injury is abhorrent to me.

Step 3: Gradually peel off a few pounds, get more miles under my belt, see slight improvement in my running and continue bitching about the heat because autumn in Oklahoma is weird like that. Sometimes we get 80-degree days in November.

Step 4: On the last Saturday of October, toe the line at the Tulsa Run 15K. Up until then, I’ve felt too roly-poly to race, but I feel compelled to do this one. And then I realize that once it’s over, I can actually run a longer distance at speeds that don’t resemble a zombie shuffle. I wasn’t all that fast this year: 1:35:56, which isn’t my slowest 15K, but definitely not my fastest. If nothing else, it tells me that I can kick it up a gear or two when race day arrives.

Step 5: Suddenly reap the benefits of cooler temps, higher mileage volume, speed workouts and the mental edge that seems to appear every year after the Tulsa Run. The hill climbs aren’t as daunting, the flats breeze by and I bomb the downhills. Everything feels like it’s coming together. And maybe that half marathon at the end of November won’t be so bad. Maybe I won’t totally suck. That’s pretty much my goal for the Route 66 Marathon half every year: Don’t suck.

And so it goes. Running is funny like that. I’m a man of routines, so training schedules and daily rituals dovetail nicely into how I do things, and every fall I emerge fitter, faster and leaner than where I was in the summer. It shouldn’t be this way, of course. Ideally, I’d be in peak condition when I’m trying to will myself to 14,000 feet. But again, routines. And a not-so-productive affinity for tacos, barbecue and brews.

I’m looking forward to this year’s race, but I also recognize that I need to change the way I do things. I can’t destroy myself in the weight room for nine months of the year and expect to remain uninjured. My personal history alone tells me that. And I can’t eat everything in sight while dialing back my training. I mean, it’s great fun and all, and an awesome way to build a gut and love handles if that’s your thing. It’s not my thing, though sometimes I wonder.

Anyway, I’m less than two weeks out from my fall goal race. Knock on wood, I’m feeling good. The plantar fasciitis of the spring seems to be gone. So is the weird hip pain I’ve been nursing for more than 18 months. Once that race is done (however it turns out), I’ll need a new plan. Let’s just see how that goes.

Bob Doucette

Summer of Nuun: Testing the Nuun Electrolytes hydration supplement

Sometimes I get lucky. A few months back, I found out I was a winner. A winner of stuff!

Race Advisors – a cool outfit that publishes reviews of races from all over – does a weekly giveaway to its social media followers, and my name turned up. What I got: A package of Nuun Electrolytes, made by a company that specializes in performance nutrition you need without all the sugar and other “extra” stuff that comes with so many other sports drinks and supplements.

I’ve heard of Nuun before. They’re all over the place on all things running. Part of the deal were four sleeves of tablets that I was free to use. At the time, summer was just getting ready to start, so this was a great time to do some experimenting.

WHAT IS IT?

Technically, each tablet of Nuun Electrolytes is designed to supplement 16 ounces of water with sodium, potassium, magnesium and calcium. When you work out, you sweat a lot. And that means more than losing just water. Certain nutrients are also lost, minerals that are essential to proper body function, especially during exercise.

But how does it work? Think of this visual: Have you ever used Alka-Seltzer? It works just like that. You take a glass/bottle of water, snag a Nuun tablet, and drop it in. It dissolves in effervescent fashion, and in about a minute, presto! You have an electrolyte-infused drink to replenish your body. It’s got 10 calories a pop, and a remarkably short ingredients list.

My guess is you can use this in one of two ways: Prepare the drink beforehand and bring a bottle of it with you as you run (for longer runs) or use it as a recovery tool after a hard workout.

HOW DID IT DO?

Over the summer, my miles drop. It’s freakin’ hot in Tulsa, so there aren’t many long runs happening for me. But when I run, I work hard and sweat a lot. If I’m not hydrated perfectly, those wonderful dehydration headaches appear, and I’m lethargic as can be, even if I down a bunch of water when I’m done. So my test was simple: Would Nuun help me avoid both?

I burned through a few tubes of Nuun tablets over the course of three hot months of running. So this isn’t a “try it a couple of times and review it” sort of test. I know I’m only one guy, but I think the duration of usage should count for something.

I’m also what might be called a “high-demand” person when it comes to post-workout recovery. I sweat buckets, even in mild temps, so that means I’m losing a lot of water and electrolytes at every workout.

The taste takes a little getting used to. It’s not sugar-sweet like a lot of popular sports drinks. My advice: Let the tablets dissolve for a minute, then drink. It goes down pretty good then.

But I also think it did its job. Sixteen ounces of a Nuun-infused drink definitely helped curb those headaches. And yeah, I did notice that the post-workout sluggishness that usually happens after a super-heated 90-minute workout was noticeably blunted. So that’s a win-win.

A further test would include taking a water bottle with Nuun in it, but I didn’t go that far. However, I do have numerous long runs planned in the coming weeks, and maybe that will be a good time to test it further.

But the bottom line is Nuun advertises that it not only helps you hydrate, but replenishes valuable minerals the body needs to keep working and recover more quickly. So far, so good. It seems to have done the job for me.

Price: A sleeve of 10 tablets is $7.

Disclaimer: Nuun and Race Advisors furnished me with four sleeves of tablets at no cost to me, and with no obligation of review or promotion.

Bob Doucette

The reality of being an athlete over 40

Most of these shoes are worn out, and these days I’m feeling every one of their miles.

When it comes to being an “athlete” over 40, it really is a tale in two parts. That’s what I’ve discovered, anyway.

Since I’ve turned 40, here are a few things that have happened…

I ran my fastest races.

I pulled my heaviest deadlift.

I ran my longest distance, then topped that a few months later by double.

I climbed tougher mountains and undertook more demanding adventures, including a couple of them solo.

At one point, I can genuinely say that I was in better shape in my 40s than I was at any other time in my life.

Age is just a number, right?

Well, hang on a minute. There’s a flip side to this coin. It’s something people tell you, but you must experience first-hand to appreciate.

When I get up in the morning, I hobble to the bathroom. Lingering plantar fasciitis remains a daily issue. And it’s not just when I first get up in the morning. Any time I get up from a long period of sitting (binging Netflix, being at work or whatever), the effect is the same. It takes me a few strides to smooth out my gait.

I also battle other injuries now more than ever. A shoulder tweak, an angry lower back, twitchy muscles, ankles sprained so many times that they retain permanent stiffness. A janky hip joint. Right now, all of these, plus the foot issues, hit me at once.

It’s a strange and irritating conundrum. When I’m out running, I can break out into a hill sprint or straightaway gallop as good or better than at any time in my 20s or 30s. But give me a couple of hours and I’m walking around the house with a bit of a hitch, gimp or whatnot. I need more sleep to recover, but my body wants me to be awake at all the wrong times.

I guess all this is making me a smarter runner and lifter. I don’t train through pain as much anymore. I train around it. Or just back off. Rehab in the form of postural alignment exercises, foam rolling and more has become more of the norm. But I won’t lie. It’s getting harder. Frustratingly so. It’s making me wonder if the best is behind me, if I’ll race in the fall, and if I need to curb my expectations when it comes to adventure.

It’s been said that life is a marathon and not a sprint. The Apostle Paul even mentioned that in his writings a couple of thousand years ago. The idea behind that is perseverance. Having run a marathon before, it’s easy to feel good about yourself at Mile 3, or Mile 8, or even Mile 13. It’s at Mile 18, or Mile 20, when you’ve already come so far, beat yourself up, and seemingly have too far to go that a race is decided. I’m not sure which mile I’m on, but it sure as hell ain’t Mile 3.

But that’s when I remember those long training miles. I’ve got to pace myself. Be smarter. Not blast my way through every adversity. “Be like water,” as Bruce Lee once said: to be still at times, to flow over when allowed, around when necessary, and crash when appropriate.

I’m learning. Pain is a great teacher. All I know for sure is I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to give in, give up what I love and live a smaller, less pain-inducing life. I know where that leads, and it’s not good.

I guess I need to be better at figuring out how to carry on a bigger life when my arms are a little heavier, my steps a fraction slower, and the aches more persistent. I don’t know any other way.

Bob Doucette

Welcome to the neighborhood: Cyclists, racing and a city’s biggest block party on Cry Baby Hill

Cyclists race by as crowds cheer – and drink – at the Riverside Criterium of Tulsa Tough on Cry Baby Hill.

When I got up Sunday morning, the parade was already started. Out my window, lines of people were strolling down the hill, coolers and lawn chairs in hand. Some were in costume. Most were dressed for the heat. Some were already half-tanked.

A typical Sunday morning for the third day of Tulsa Tough, an annual cycling race series and festival that has bike enthusiasts from across the country descend on T-town with all the spandex anyone could ever want. Crowds gather for all three days of Tulsa Tough, but it’s the third day, on Cry Baby Hill, that folks really get revved up.

And it happens in my neighborhood.

A little about my ‘hood: it’s tough to define. It’s older, right on the edge of downtown Tulsa, and built on the banks of the Arkansas River. It’s a mix of people, from bohemian to bums, families and retirees, living in stately older homes, shotgun houses, or in open fields not yet developed. It’s a place where you can watch incredible sunsets from your porch, or view transients stumbling down an alley. I feel perfectly safe here, but sometimes there are police helicopters and searchlights. Typical urban neighborhood, I suppose, and the site for the Riverside Criterium of Tulsa Tough.

So let’s talk about Tulsa Tough. This was the 13th year for the event, which attracts top cyclists from across the country and the world. For three days, they race through different courses downtown, and as the years have gone by the crowds have grown. There’s also a gran fondo ride that goes well outside the city and a townie ride where anyone with a set of wheels can take a more leisurely trek.

The climax of Tulsa Tough is the Riverside Criterium. It’s the toughest course, with steep inclines on every lap. I’m sure that’s something cyclists can appreciate and dread, but for most people, the Riverside Criterium is all about the scene that is Cry Baby Hill. It draws the biggest, most raucous crowds of the entire weekend, and I’d say most people are there more for the party than the races. Folks show up by the thousands.

It wasn’t always that way. When Tulsa Tough started, people in the neighborhood gathered at a house or two to watch the races, guzzle some beer and cheer them on. One legend has it that regulars at the Sound Pony, a downtown dive bar frequented by cyclists and other endurance athletes, started making the Sunday Tulsa Tough races a thing. However it started, someone built this party scene, and man, did it grow.

Today, the Riverview neighborhood is choked with Tulsa Tough spectators and revelers. There’s lots of skin, vats of beer, weird costumes and creepy baby-doll heads on sticks. There are a bunch of whistles and people in referee uniforms helping the crowds “mind the gap” so cyclists can actually freely race without fear of running into errant fans. It’s grown so big that the food truck cabal decided to come, and live music on a stage popped up. Debauchery of all sorts happens, though most people keep it in check. I think. Anyway, I tell people that Cry Baby Hill is an annual excuse to get drunk on a Sunday morning, and I think that’s mostly true.

Some of the cyclists get into it. If they’re not concentrated on actually winning, they’ll slow down and take a brew from the crowd before continuing. Cops are there in droves, as are paramedic crews. It’s hot out there, and sometimes the combination of a 12-pack of Natty Light and high heat/humidity doesn’t work out too well.

You might think the description of my neighborhood, the event, and the crowd is negative, but let me shut that down right now: I dig this scene. Endurance sports don’t get a lot of love, so when the hordes arrive to cheer on the competitors, I’m all for it. Come on down, invade the ‘hood for a few hours and have a good time. Too many parts of town (any town, really) are too buttoned down, becoming regimented to the point of lifelessness. My neighborhood is a trip pretty much every day, and I guess it’s fitting that Day Three of Tulsa Tough is sort of a holiday of weirdness for my weird little place.

That all of it surrounds cycling hits home, too. I don’t race, but I spend a decent amount of time in the saddle these days. I chose where I live so I could bike to work. It’s also close to a paved trail system that’s great for longer rides. I’m not a racer, but I get these people even if my ride costs less than the accessories they attach to theirs.

So how did all this go down for me? Well, as the crowds clogged my streets, I mowed my yard. Picked up a half-empty can of Coors Light kindly donated to my lawn. I dumped the rest out, recycled the can, then jumped on my bike and rode to the center of the action.

While recording part of the race from a more “family friendly” part of the course, a half-baked spectator noticed by Denver Broncos ballcap and proceeded to talk smack. Turns out, he was a Chiefs fan. They got us twice last year, but I reminded him that the Broncos have three Lombardis in the case to Kansas City’s one. He was forceful at first (I was hoping that this wouldn’t turn into a real fight), but chilled out long enough to have a more nuanced discussion about how the AFC West was going to play out. His girlfriend got bored, so we bro-hugged and they left.

I rode to a few more spots, taking pics and taking in the scene. Everywhere I went, the streets were lined with people, sometimes ten deep. Whistles would blow, a chase vehicle would zip by, and then a couple of cyclists would follow. Behind them, the whirring gears of a few dozen more cyclists, bunched up in the peloton, breezed by. The crowd cheered, yelled, rang their cowbells and took a swig from coozy-lined cans and red Solo cups.

This scene repeated itself for several hours until the last pro races were done. Podiums were mounted and trophies awarded. Fans eventually stumbled back into their houses, or toward their cars, and not a small number of them took the next day off.

What does this all mean? I’m not sure about the origins of Tulsa Tough. There’s a healthy cycling community in Tulsa, but not more than any other mid-sized city. Even so, Tulsa Tough is a huge success, an international draw, seemingly getting bigger every year. That an obscure endurance sport can become so huge here is encouraging, even if half the appeal is just showing up for the party. It’s a weird, geared-up and beer-soaked thread in a community tapestry that might otherwise be mildly bland.

Come next June, we’ll do it all over again. See ya next time for Year 14 of Tulsa Tough. Cry Baby Hill awaits.

Bob Doucette

Here’s what happens when a non-crossfitter does Murph

I have a basic approach when it comes to fitness. Do some running. Hike. Get on your bike. Lift heavy things. Lift, run, bike, hike for short.

But I like taking on different challenges, even if they’re out of my wheelhouse.

On Memorial Day, a lot of people like to do a Crossfit workout called “Murph.” I’m not a crossfitter, and I’ve got no plans to be. But they do some things right in the Crossfit world (they’re getting more people into barbell training than anything else right now), and some of these workouts are definitely worth trying.

So on Monday, I decided I join the legions doing Murph. For all you curious non-crossfitters, this one’s for you.

FIRST OF ALL…

Lt. Michael Murphy, aka “Murph.” (U.S. Navy photo)

Let’s get this straight, because it’s important: What is “Murph?”

The more accurate question is not what, but who.

“Murph” is Lt. Michael Murphy, a U.S. Navy SEAL who was killed in action while serving in Afghanistan in 2005. If you’ve read the book “Lone Survivor” or saw the movie of the same title, then you know his story and that of his team. If you don’t know it, look it up. A small group of SEALS fought like hell against huge numerical odds, even while gravely wounded.

Murphy invented this workout, which he called “body armor.” Following his death, the workout was named in his honor.

So what’s the workout? Glad you asked.

THE WORKOUT

It’s simple: Run one mile, do 100 pull-ups, do 200 push-ups, do 300 body-weight squats, then run another mile.

Simple, right?

Well, there’s also this: In its strictest form, you also do this with a weighted 20-pound vest.

The goal is to do it in less than an hour. Really fit people can do it in 45 minutes.

Here’s what I figured: I run plenty. I lift several times a week. And I’m getting decent at pull-ups. Why not give it a shot?

SOME CAVEATS

I’m also a realist. I don’t own a weighted vest and didn’t have access to one. Being the first time I tried this, I decided to skip the weighted part.

Crossfitters will kip their pull-ups. I refuse. I’ll do them as strict as I can as long as I can.

I doubt there are many people who can do 100 pull-ups in a row, even if they’re kipping. Same is probably true of the other exercises. I’d be breaking these up into manageable chunks, hoping to make good time.

WHERE I DID IT

I went to a high school track/football field. The track offered me an easy way to measure out a mile and stay close to some water I brought.

The track was a good idea, but this plan had its problems. For starters, it was 91 degrees and mostly sunny, with a heat index of 95. That sort of heat will elevate your heart rate far above what it would normally be indoors or, say, any other time of year. Since I’d be doing the non-running exercises on the field, it would feel even hotter.

Also, there was a lack of decent places to do pull-ups. I settled for a soccer goal crossbar. The steel tubing didn’t offer much grip; it was fat enough that I was more “palming” the bar than gripping it. So that was working against me.

But hey, who cares? If you’re going to do Murph, don’t bitch about your problems. The workout will be hard enough as it is.

HOW IT WENT

The first mile run was a breeze, mostly because I didn’t push too hard. Maybe a 9:30 pace, trying to conserve energy for the work to come.

Once that was done, it was time for the pull-ups. I started doing sets of 6 to 8 reps, taking short breaks. But soon, the sheer volume was killing me. So I scaled it by switching from overhand grip pull-ups to underhand grip chin-ups. I know, lame. But I needed to get reps to move on.

By the time I got to 52 reps, I realized I’d be out there forever unless I found ways to knock out reps in the other exercises. So at the point, I supersetted chins with pull-ups and squats. That helped.

But dang, if this isn’t a whole other kind of fitness. I do all sorts of conditioning drills when I run, but this is just different. The steady flow of work and the heat radiating off the artificial turf surface I was on spiked my heart rate something good. By the time I was done with all that mess, it was time for that second mile-long run.

A zombie shuffle ensued. Maybe one of the slowest miles I’ve ever “run.”

When I was finished, I missed that 60-minute goal. By a lot. I definitely was not physically up to the task of making that goal. I shuffled off the field and into my car a sweaty, beat-down mess. Lesson learned. Murph is legit.

AFTERMATH

The next day, I was sore in some expected places, mostly in my shoulders and upper back. But not in my legs (you’d think 300 squats would have done something, but nope). But I was surprisingly sore in my abs. I wasn’t expecting that. Perhaps I should do more core, eh? Anyway, it was a built-in excuse to not lift the following day. I ran three miles and called it good.

THE TAKEAWAY

What I’ve learned about fitness is that when you do something different, expect to suck at it. I’ve learned this many times over.

I used to play a lot of basketball, maybe three or four times a week. And not that half-court BS, either. We ran the court, fast breaks and all. I got to where I could handle that. But run more than a couple of miles? I might as well have been trying to climb Mount Everest. Two different types of fitness.

Another example: Back when I was doing jujitsu, we had a new guy come in. He told us he’d be fine in terms of conditioning: The dude ran six miles a day. When the workout was over, he was outside puking in the parking lot. Once again, a different kind of fitness.

The same is true here. I know Murph is not indicative of everything Crossfit, but it is a good example of the type of training crossfitters do. Murph is not a strength test; It’s a conditioning test with some elements of strength involved. So while I lift frequently and hard and do my fair share of conditioning drills (400-meter intervals and negative split workouts come to mind), what I do is not going to go that far with something like Murph.

Crossfit bills itself as preparing its trainees to be fit enough to do anything at any time – they pride themselves as fitness “generalists” and through their Crossfit Games, aim to crown the winners as “the fittest people on earth.” There’s some truth to that, although Crossfit programming seems to create a lot of people who need shoulder surgeries.

But there is value in trying new things, and finding your weaknesses. On Monday, on that steaming hot high school track, Murph helped me find a few of mine. I might have to try it again.

Bob Doucette