Summer Reading: Dirty Inspirations

Using a popular structural approach, the tone and message
of each chapter is established with a quote.

In my roles as both a weekend warrior and high school coach, I am always on the lookout for books that can provide motivation to the athlete-in-me, as well as break down challenging sports-psychology concepts for those interested student-athletes with whom I work. Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is that rare collection of essays that is capable of doing both. A champion endurance athlete turned sports psychologist, Schneider draws on her broad array of competitive experiences (ranging from Ironman tri-athlete to Eco-Challenge team member).

A world-class athlete, Schneider has personal experience battling the mental demons that come with endurance sports. Endurance sports, as defined by the Farlax Free Dictionary, are activities performed primarily by an individual "in which key muscles are exercised at submaximal intensity for prolonged periods of time," and within this competitive arena, the author finds multiple anecdotes illustrating a practical psychological approach.

What Schneider's anecdotes and experiences do so effectively is to add meaningful meat to the bones of  tired coaching code such as "Hang in here" and "You can do this if you try." Anyone who has engaged in athletics at any level (from recreational to professional) have heard ad nauseum, further reinforcing the reality that for many coaches (myself included), the real sports psychology employed is limited to motivational phrases. In the spirit of "physician, heal thyself," Schneider shows how her own application of these theories has resulted in both personal competitive successes and failures.

The text is broken into sixteen easily digestible chapters, each illustrating a different psychological training principle through the lens of the author's personal experience. This stricture allows time for the reader to intellectually breathe and reflect upon the insights offered in each chapter. While chapter titles such as "Afraid of Fear" and "Painting Your Authentic Self" have  whiff of self-help pop psychology, given the practical experiences behind each principle, Schneider avoids the potential pitfall of celebrity how-to book. In addition to being an exceptional endurance athlete, Schneider is also an academic who has pursued education in sport psychology. Interestingly, the author often refers to her motivations for pursuing such training as events in her competitive life give rise to the possible need for it. If anything, it is her academic writer's voice that puts this text in the realm of psychology and training literature rather than purely adventure biography. This is not to suggest the words lack passion, but to remind that this really is, I believe, intended to introduce valuable ideas within the exciting context of adventure racing. It is one thing to run a 10k or half-marathon and describe what it is like to work through discomfort, and another thing entirely to address the subject having successfully completed a 100 mile foot race.

Author Terri Schneider.

Two chapters I found of especially meaningfully, given my own current state of affairs were "Probing Commitment" (pages 58-68) and "Finding Comfort in Discomfort" (pages 138-155). Next week, I will be embarking on my sixth (!) season as a high school Varsity Cross-Country coach, in all likelihood with a team comprised of young women with little prior experience at running the 5k distance competitively. Additionally, I very recently participated in a 20k that frankly did not go as planned, and during whcih I sustained an injury, that had me questioning whether to continue or not. In both instances, "professional" and personal, the necessity of commitment, to the individual as well as to those who rely upon them, is significant. Both chapters spoke specifically to questions I had around internal motivation and the necessity of powerful self-talk in persevering.

Dirty Inspirations: Lessons From the Trenches of Extreme Endurance Sports by Terri Schneider is worthy reading for both the competitor and coach. Unlike similar books which speak to sports psychology in a specific athletic endeavor (basketball coaching books for basketball coaches for example), the anecdotes and information in Schneider's text are readily transferable to any sport, especially as the athletic feats of the author imbue her words with instant credibility. I look forward to sharing parts of this text implicitly through some decisions I make this seasons and explicitly by sharing an excerpt (or two) with the team.

Come Back to Nowhere

Six(!) years ago when I first began this blog it was entitled My Runners Feet and was a place where I would reflect upon my efforts training to run local road races. It's now been just over two-and-a-half years since my last road race (a very pedestrian performance at the 2011 Rochester Half Marathon), which was itself my first race in a year. There were periods 5-6 years ago where I would compete in a road race a weekend at distances ranging from 5-40k. Of course, this was when I was younger, and lacked other outlets for my need challenge myself to improve and occasionally test my mettle against like minded individuals; a need since filled by coaching three seasons a year and watching my own kids compete in a variety of activities.

From the Finger Lakes 50k Trail Race in July 2009.

This past December, after electing to step away from coaching for a season for the first time in four years, I joined a local gym. My intent was to hit the treadmill more frequently, a plan which worked as long as I could convince myself that I wasn't too busy to workout. After going to the gym in fits-and-starts over the past five months (an event that was much more regular during long breaks from school or the late winter months when I wasn't coaching), I've found myself outgrowing the production available with running in place in an enclosed room.

And now I am back on the roads, though shuffling more than running, and putting in significantly less mileage. This might seem to suggest a comeback of sorts, but I'm unsure just where I coming back from or to the exact location I am travelling. A coaching-mentor of mine, who even at the age of 60 still runs daily, once shared with me his displeasure with running road races. "I did one of those about fifteen years ago. Why pay," he would ask when I would tell him I'd signed up for a race back-in-the-day, "to do something you love to do and can do for free?" With his words resurfacing in my head, and my own pride at such low mileage and pace, I don't envision myself signing up for anything anytime soon. The goal right now is to work the same plan I gave my prospective high school girls cross-country runners for the summer (basically 20-35 minutes, 5 days a week), in hopes of being more helpful in helping them meet their competitive goals. But I know myself, and at some point a more tangible target/goal will be necessary to my continuing to get up and out.

This morning I "ran" just a little over 3.5 miles as a LONG run, a distance that years ago would have been an early Sunday morning warm-up. After struggling through, though, there is still a tremendous sense of accomplishment in doing something, that I had not done in my recent past, and, I suppose, therein lies the comeback.

Honoring the Spirit of Iron Eyes Cody

As is common practice, while awaiting the start of the Class A race this past weekend at the New York State Cross Country Championship in Elma, New York, myself and a few coaches walked parts of the course. While doing so, one coach , between talking points, finished drinking the remainder of a plastic bottle of water he had purchased. Upon drawing the final swig, he walked ahead of our small group of four, looked around and flipped his bottle into a small area of long grass just to the side of the path.

I happened to see this and quickly prompted the coach to "pick up your litter, there's cans and bins all over the place!" There were indeed trash and recyclable receptacles throughout the course and in the tent village where teams had set up shop for the day. This brief interaction prompted a short discussion during which one of my colleagues asked, "Do you remember that old commercial with the Indian who had the tear running down his cheek?" I did.

Despite a concerted effort on the part of communities, schools, and businesses to promote recycling, my friend still thought little of simply dropping his garbage on the ground. Of course, this doesn't make him "bad" or "evil," but it is indicative of a level of short-sightedness. Nationally, we may all be negligent in this regard.  I distinctly recall as a child in the Seventies, watching two television characters in particular do their darnedest to teach children (and adults) about the importance of recycling: Iron Eyes Cody and Woodsy Owl.

Star of the ad at the top of the post, Iron Eyes Cody was most famous for his "crying Indian" role in the "Keep America Beautiful" Public Service Announcement (PSA) in the early 1970s. It was an ecology commercial in which Cody, playing a Native American, sheds a tear after some trash is thrown from a speeding car and lands at his feet. The announcer, William Conrad, of Bullwinkle and Cannon fame, memorably declares: "People start pollution; people can stop it."


While Iron Eyes was a serious, powerful combination of image and message, I have always been  partial to United States Forest Service mascot, and spokes-bird, Woodsy Owl. Another environmental icon, he first came on the scene in 1970 for the first Earth Day in order to raise awareness in children and families for protecting the environment. Having been through a number of updates and hip redesigns, 40+ years later, Woodsy's messages of common sense conservation still lingers in my memory: "Give a hoot, don't pollute."

When my friend did pick up his bottle, and together we found an appropriate blue bin to drop it into, it was good to feel in some way the ghosts of those old PSAs past were pleased by the tiny difference this act (among many more) have made.

A Brief History of My Time on the Wild West Relay (Part 1)

NOTE: This post was originally published back in August 18, 2006.

195 Miles. 36 Legs. 12 Athletes. 2 Vans. 30 Insane hours. 1 Crazy weekend.

It is incredibly difficult to sum up the experience of participating in the Wild West Relay from Fort Collins to Steamboat, Colorado (with a considerable dip up into Wyoming). It has been almost a week since its conclusion in Steamboat Springs Middle School track at around noon, and I'm still "processing" what really happened. (I told my wife that it was a life changing situation, and as part of the larger "going West" experience, there has got to be a book in there somewhere.)

While I did take a ba-jillion digital pictures (and my teammates took some as well), from the two-day experience, of which the time between legs was much more challenging than the running of the race itself, I've only included a few here to serve as points of reference. (I feel like a could write and write and write about this...)



After meeting at one of our teammates' house at 5:30 a.m., we, as the entire Team Skinnydipper (including the honorary mascots--one baby and one dog) made our way in two vans to the starting line, which was at the Budweiser Brewery in Fort Collins. It was as we pulled into the parking lot that the scope and distance of the race (195 miles!) finally began to sink in. There were 94 teams running, in five different divisions (open, flatlanders, hash house, mixed, high school  and our team was among the fourth wave of starters beginning at 7:30 a.m.

Van 1, holding six runners (actually, in our case, only four as we had received special permission for a "Baby Mobile"--two of my teammates had a baby, and dog--my brother-in-law Mike and his girlfriend Jodi among them), which would be accompanying us) would take care of the first six legs, while we in Van 2 would travel to the seventh exchange point and wait. And wait. and wait. It was about 90 degrees out in the sun so we stringed a tarp between our van and the one next to it in an effort to hide from the heat. It kind of worked.

As we drove to the start in Van 2, our team captain inquired as to what we should name the van. She also came up with the only suggestion: The White Shadow, and this is the name by which the van was referred throughout the day(s).

The Bud Plant was where our "baton," a yellow LIVESTRONG bracelet, was to begin its journey, moving from runner to runner, wrist to wrist...



Our second four to five hour waiting period began in the early afternoon and ended at dusk. Then it was time for our night legs, a period during which we would be running through very rural Wyoming/Colorado between 10:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. Rules (and safety) dictated that all runners had to wear a reflective running vest, head lamp and blinking light. Fortunately for me, the moon was so large and bright that the technological light was unnecessary. The dark did motivate me to run harder--too many killer hillbilly movies, I guess.

By this time, our van had worked out the process of following the person running, to offer support and fluids. Prior to receiving the "baton," the runner would work out where or when the remainder of the team would meet them along the route. Because the only race markers were for the final mile (allegedly), I would ask for the team to touch base with me half way through each leg. This would give me a better sense of how far along I was. Some of my teammates would ask for us to wait for them at two or three different points, primarily to offer moral support. This strategy was wildly effective in pulling each other through the larger challenges of the relay--which was (at least) as psychologically draining as physically. Apparently, our Van 1 did not use this approach, but my guess is next year our whole team would buy into this.



After our night legs were complete, we barely made it to the last wait point which we had been led to believe would be a field on which we could camp with tents. In reality it was a hilly sage field with two port-a-johns. We were among the first vans to arrive, crawling into the "lot" at about 3:30 a.m. For some inexplicable reason we were prompted (actually directed) to park in what in effect was a gully.



When I woke up at 6:00 a.m., I noticed that all the other vehicles that had been told to park with us in the gully had been moved while the White Shadow remained alone were it had come to rest only a few hours before. After spending three and a half "sleeping" in the seated position, I wasthe first to make a break for it, pushing open the door and falling out onto the Colorado landscape. In the shadow of the Rabbit Ears rock formation, I donated two dollars for a cup of warm "camp coffee," which consisted of a few coffee beans boiled in a pot of water on a small grill. I could have been drinking a cappuccino in Italy for all the satisfaction it brought me... I've never been one to drink my coffee black, but this trip was about making exceptions to rules, right?



My last leg was among the hardest of the 36 (the race director's designation, not mine!) as it was five miles almost straight downhill running into traffic. Fortunately for me, the rain that had harassed those running the two legs prior to mine had subsided (for a short time), and I had brought two pairs of sneakers which allowed me to choose my Montrail trailrunners, providing me more traction and support. I had been wearing both knee supports during all three race legs, and they were most beneficial during this leg which, by the nature fo the steep grade of the descent, would beat my legs senseless. I passed three of the competition team's runners in this leg, a feat that my colleagues had also accomplished during their legs. We all felt pretty good about the manner in which we maintained our overall position during our time with the "baton."

My brother-in-law Mike ran the last leg onto the Steamboat
Springs High School Stadium Track.

"Exchange 35" was the last transition point where the thirty-fifth leg would hand off to the last. Our final runner would run the trail-leg to the middle school track, where the entire team (vans 1 and 2) would meet him with a hundred meters left and run in the baton together cross the finish line.

It was great to be reunited with the entire Skinnydipper squad after being separated for most of the race, and to finally cross the finish line. Despite some conversation around who ran the hardest leg, or did "the best," I think that each one of us in the White Shadow ran to the best of our ability on each leg.

To use a tired sports saying, we "all left it on the court" and then sense of elation (I know I felt) once the relay was complete was incredible! I felt an incredible bond with my teammates, forged as a result of our shared space, effort, H20, and relay experiences. I'm looking forward to sharing some more personal anecdotal type stuff from the relay trail in future posts, but until then...

Breathe in, breathe out... YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!

Recreational Exercise Retrogrouching

This Sunday morning, like most mornings in my urban neighborhood, it is difficult to walk anywhere without noting the significant number of folks riding bicycles. We, in Rochester, New York, are extremely fortunate (for the most part) to have a community infrastructure that is very supportive of bicyclists, especially those who are commuting.



Retrogrouch, Grant Petersen.

I have, however, noticed a shift among the majority of bicyclists in my community that mirrors one I observed (and survived) in the local running community a few years ago that continues to this day. It would seem that it is now in vogue to bicycle, not in a pair of shorts with sneakers and a t-shirt, but rather decked out with tights, form fitting spandex shirts, as if riding in the Tour de France. Stop by a local 5k and you're likely to see even the most pedestrian of "athletes" participating, similarly attired with GPS systems, hydration belts (yes, for a 5k!), and the running fashion accessory of the moment (at one point it was forearm sleeves and later, skorts).

It would seem that even the most wholesome of recreational activities of the past, such as riding a bicycle and jogging are now being turned into money-making endeavors where advertisers and specialty stores are building and developing wares for purchase that, while "cool," are not necessarily vital to performance. And are not necessary to enjoying the pure experience of the activity. While I commend the people who bicycle at a leisurely pace through the streets of River City, I struggle with the need for them to do so dressed like Lance Armstrong's less fit doppleganger.

While sitting in the doctor's office a few weeks ago I came across an article in the June 2012 issue of Men's Journal magazine, "Biking's Philosopher Crank", which gave me a term for how I feel about this, "retrogrouch." The article, written by Kolby Yarnell, focuses on bicycle builder Grant Petersen's personal movement to return to less complicated practices (diet, equipment and clothing) for bicyclist. 'The idea behind all of this, Petersen (the original "retrogrouch") writes, is to get people to 'enjoy bikes again, the way you did as a kid, before you got so serious.' He calls his disciples Unracers." The entirety of Yarnell's views on bicycling are further explored in his recent book Just Ride: A Radically Practical Guide to Riding Your Bike, which I unfortunately have not yet to have had the opportunity to read.

I would propose the same sort of backwards design philosophy might benefit the recreational running world, too.

Scoutin' Routes: Mendon Ponds West

It has been a few many weeks since I last took the opportunity to scout out any of the routes (the first being Basil Marella Park--our "home course")that the Girls Cross-Country team will be racing on this year, but this afternoon after summer school, I made my way to Mendon Ponds Park. Though I have run many races ranging in distances from 32 (ultra marathon) to 3.1 (5k) at Mendon, and watched my daughter, son and students run races there, too, I had not previously taken first hand walk of the course myself, until today that is. Today I walked one of two high school courses at Mendon Ponds, the Mendon West Course (click map to right to enlarge). Both the course map and verbal directions were plucked form the Monroe County Cross Country website.

The best way to use this walk through is to enlarge the verbal directions posted to the left and follow along with the pictures below. Of course, you'll have to visualize the flags and cones, but despite getting turned around at the "hills," I stayed true to the directions... if not comment below and I'll update accordingly.

Any course at hilly Mendon Ponds is apt to be more challenging than Basil and the West course certainly offers more hills and turns. It would seem to play to a variety of individual runner's strengths: something for those who excel at inclines and a very little something for downhill runners. The course also covers a range of surfaces: packed dirt, small stone, paved roads, grass, and a few tree roots thrown in for good measure. (Of course, surface quality is a huge variable in cross-country as the potential for rain or--brrrr!--snow is always present.)With designations like "Cardiac" and "Coronary" Hill (s), I was expecting something slightly more rigorous, but then again these are high school (and middle school) student-athletes and perhaps the "Directions for course set-up" (posted to the left and right) I used to guide me along the trails may have been tinged with a wee bit of sarcasm.

Above are the directions for the remainder of the course images.

If you happen to spot a miscue or misstep, please feel free to let me know! After a summer of "captain's practices," team practices officially start this coming Friday, and I am looking forward to setting off on my first season as the Varsity Girls Cross-Country coach!

'Dam' Good Trail Race

Run: 14 miles in 2:13.13 @ 8:30 a.m.
Weather: Rain/Thunder, 69°F, 90% Humidity, Wind: From ESE @ 13 mph; feels like 69°F.
Course: 'Dam' Good Trail Race course at Letchworth Park.
Pace: ≈9:30 min/mile
Effort: 5 out of 5
How did I feel? Great!
Gear: Amphipod RunLite Trail Runner

Re-Run Ruminations: Waking up this morning to prepare both mentally and physically, I was unfortunately not surprised to find the rain falling heavily (and if the noises I had heard outside during the whole night are any indication) steadily.. While I have little fear of melting in the rain, I am aware that a single track trail in a park with 100 people running an out-and-back course on it (and I without spikes or ultra trail shoes) is a perfect recipe for slipping, sliding and possible injury.

Despite the weather conditions, my strategy and purpose in running the 14 mile 'Dam' Good Trail Race has not changed: simply finish the run with a smile on my face, and secondly, to do so while adhering to the Carry Your Own 'Dam' Water guidelines. One logistical goal would be not to fall behind the pack which would result in a need to slosh through slippery mud for the entire 14 mile course!

Post-Race Reflections:Though it was intermittently drizzling/raining out during the run, fortunately the tree canopy through which the course ran, provided adequate cover and greatly diminished the direct impact any precipitation might have. The rain and humidity did, however, make for some very slippery terrain, especially during the second half of the loop during which the course went over the first six miles, but in reverse. The course itself was fairly flat (at least based on my past experience), but given the weather, it was not without some more technical elements. My final time was not "great," I was proud to come across the finish feeling as strong (though definitely "wasted") and it was rewarding to get a trail race of this distance under my belt.

I did end up carrying my own "dam" water for the run, and this went off with only a few technical difficulties--the flask would occasionally drop from the clipping system meaning I would have to stop, retrieve and re-clip. After the first three times, I grew cognisant of the need to reduce the bumpiness created by the force of my downward trajectory on the hills. As I did the the occurrence of drops was reduced.

The race was incredibly well organized, and the finisher's "medal," a wood chip with the race's logo and date pressed on it, was in keeping with the "green" spirit of the run.

Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!

Carrying My Own 'Dam' Water?

The 14 mile course map over which I hope to carry my own "dam" H2O!
As mentioned previously next weekend's 2010 'Dam' Good Trail Run has a few unique options inherent in the race; the most unique of these is that in an effort to "green" the race (translation: encourage trash reduction on the trails), organizers inviting participants to Carry Your Own 'Dam' Water. According to the guidelines, it works this way:

...if you carry your own ‘dam’ water for the entire 14 mile race (and certainly re-fill at the aid stations if needed), you will receive a 22 second handicap off your finish time.

Sounds like an excellent idea (especially the "re-fill if needed!), so I'm "in"--and goodness knows I can use any time advantage I can!

Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!

Final Thoughts on the FL50s

"Try the meditation of the trail, just walk along looking at the trail at your feet and don't look about and just fall into a trance as the ground zips by."~Jack Kerouac, Dharma Bums

The official results for this past weekend's Finger Lakes Fifties have been posted and I did better than I had expected (at least in terms of where I finished)... as I type that previous statement though, I am struck by how little my place and time mean in this overall experience. Talking with colleagues at work yesterday, I didn't even think to offer my possible time or place, but was proud to share the fact that I have finished... not something I have always done in the past.

At any rate, my time (5:38:15) was about five minutes slower than I had projected (the whole stop your watch at the finish or look at the HUGE clock is not my bag) in previous recent posts, but I placed tenth overall out of sixty-nine finishers (while five did not finish--been there).

Now on to the next challenge...

Breathe in, breathe out… YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!