A Pain in the Neck!

I draw a certain line when it comes to putting personal information on the internet. Honestly, I shut down my first blog (an outlet for writing) and deleted most of my fb page almost two years ago. Then people started asking me why I was gone. I was surprised by the number of people who told me that they were motivated or inspired by what I wrote and by the photos of the places I visit. Thus, I chose to stay on the internet. I have decided to only relate information about my involvement in athletic events and my travels.

This post is as close to personal as I will get. I have wavered over relaying this story for two days and I am only posting it because I think it might serve someone out there.

If you follow this blog, and many people do as judged by more than 20K hits in the last year, then you know that I have had a difficult spring. Just how troubling and taxing it has been for me, you are about to learn.

In March I ran the LBL Marathon. In that race I tripped a few times within a matter of seconds. I had been struggling to keep my form after about an hour, but I thought it was because I had pushed the pace.

Then, in early April, I ran in the Oak Barrel Half in Lynchburg, TN. I felt extremely lucky to finish, let alone to win. In the closing miles I was once again struggling to keep my form. My left leg was simply not pulling through normally. As I had in all of my practice sessions, I forced myself to remain as balanced in gait as possible. I somehow managed to keep a steady pace.

After the Oak Barrel Half I was not sore at all. This is highly unusual since my low mileage approach to running almost always results in post-race hobbling. I became extremely tight in my left buttock, hip, and leg in the days that followed that event. I kept to my stretching and strength routines, but struggled even more to get through workouts as I approached the Indy Mini - my goal race for the spring.

Those workouts were much more taxing and difficult to finish than I expected. A few times I even wondered if I was actually getting - dare I say it - old. Still, from those efforts I knew that, given a fair weather day, I could run at or below 1:16 for a half marathon. I did not. Approximately 4.5 miles into the race I turned hard left and felt/heard a loud pop from my left hip. And my running gait disintegrated. I looked down to see my left foot striking the pavement at nearly a 45 degree angle. Whoa!!!

My hip had not come all the way out of the socket, but it had been twisted out of its normal position. It was painful and annoying. I swung my left knee from inside to outside and outside to inside as I continued down the road to the Speedway. Again, if you follow the blog, then you know how I stubbornly finished. I made it to the finish line despite three more of these popping incidents.

I was devastated. For years I have gone to events (except for those two Leadville 100s :) and performed exactly as I planned to. And I have not had a sport related injury, setting aside bike crashes, in more than twenty years.

When I resumed training in preparation for the Apple Duathlon my struggles worsened, even though I was seeing specialists and following every detail of their course of treatment. Oh, I was still nailing some awesome workouts at the same paces I've been running/riding for many years, but the efforts to prepare for and complete those workouts had increased significantly. I would work hard to limber up and then even harder to power through a run at goal pace, only to have my left hip and buttock grow extremely tight after even a light three mile run.

For better or for worse, I'll side with you, the whole left side of my body became extremely tight on the long drive to Minnesota. I once again limbered up well and then my left side tightened up immediately after the horn sounded. I couldn't even run a 5K at the pace of my the first four miles in the Mini a month earlier, Something was wrong and worsening. The treatment served as patches that were lasting for shorter and shorter durations.

So, I got another opinion. I visited a doctor specializing in neurology on Tuesday. He put me through a battery of diagnostic tests similar to what the others had done. Then he went further. A test of my eye movement led to the testing of the extension reflexes and strength of many muscles.

At the completion of the testing the doctor asked me if I had suffered a neck injury lately. Yes. Yes I had. At the end of January I was explaining how a dip in the Blue Ridge Parkway gave me whiplash and nearly knocked me out. As I retold the story of this May 2012 ride I whipped my head forward and my neck popped loudly and began to hurt like hell on the left side of the spinal column. The pain lasted for almost two weeks and varied from dull to intense. My necked continued to pop with normal movement right up until - Tuesday.

The early pain I knew came from the self-inflicted whiplash due to my overly demonstrative story telling. The later tightness and popping I decided had been caused by my return to cycling on a bike that I could not get comfortable on.

This doctor had a different take on it. He showed/told me how a misplaced vertebrae could compress a nerve bundle and result in a neuropathy. That neuropathy, in turn, would cause diminished capacity for body functions relying on those neurological signals.

I became shockingly aware of that weakness when, during his diagnostic exam, when my left side produced a far less strength than my right side. My mind had, since that whiplash, been compensating for compressed nerves by sending signals through the right side of my brain. The result was a weakened response by the left side muscles, hence bad form. By recognizing this and forcing my body to complete workouts while maintaining relatively good form, I had overtaxed muscles on my left side.

The gluteal muscles were the first to cry out when my bike seat moved them into an even more stressful position. Those super tight muscles pulled at my hip, making it hurt. The IT band became inflamed as it fought to maintain the balance. The destabilized hip moved from its normal position. Mayhem, pain, and stupidity ensued. What a mess!!!

The pressure has been released from the nerve bundle. My strength is nearly back to normal. Boy is it back!! I know it is because I have been cleared to ride, but to protect my neck. Running is on hiatus for now. How long? I'm not certain, but I know I intend to race in the ITU Duathlon World Championships at full strength in nine weeks.

So why did I reveal this personal story? Because of words the doctor and others have said to me. First of all, the fact that I have regained so much strength so quickly has been attributed to my exceedingly good health. Several medical professionals have recently told me that I am the healthiest old man they have ever worked with. This, in itself, validates my healthy lifestyle of moderate exercise time and proper (unAmerican) eating habits.

Secondly, and the most important reason why I told this story, is because I (and others!) realize how stubborn I have been. I did what most guys would do - I ignored the signals - I adapted changes - I did not seek medical attention when I first hurt my neck. I was a fool.  I could have caused permanent nerve damage that would have changed the way I live out my life. The next time it could be something lethal like cancer.

Tough guy instincts must yield to the wise old man who understands his limitations.  That is why I am about to leave for the most relaxing western journey I have ever had. Stay tuned!!

The Apple Duathlon

My roaming spirit was overdue for a road trip. So with great satisfaction I drove more than eight hundred miles to Sartell, MN last Friday to compete in the Apple Duathlon. This is despite the fact that I have been getting treatment and therapy for that misplaced hip for the last three weeks. Recent training had not gone perfectly, but it had gone well enough (doc's permission!) to warrant a race trip. And I had bones to pick with the Apple.

The plan was simple. I would break up and extend the drive by stopping several times to stretch the legs and manipulate the hips. That is precisely what I did, stopping several times to eat, drink, and be merry . . . wait, no, that was . . . Yes! That is what I did!

After a Panera lunch break I stopped in Davenport, IA to imbibe in the traditional pre-race stout at the Front Street Brewery. I managed to limit myself to one well-crafted Bucktown Stout. The choice seemed appropriate considering brewery's location along the Mississippi in an area deemed Bucktown before prohibition.

Then, an hour later while passing through Iowa City, I called a favorite student who is now seeking a PhD at UI. Due to his nearly constant brew parties, Burke has become a knowledgable brewer in a few short years. Aware of our shared love for unique brews, Burke directed me to meet him at the nearby Backpocket Brewery in Coralville. That caused my first of what seems like thousands of U-turns on the trip.

Master Brewer on the prowl.

I matched a cheeseless veggie/chicken pizza and a Penny Whistle Wiezen with Burke's usual witty and clever tale about his dead crocodile research. At one point it occurred to me that Burke is the Crocodile Bone Hunter. I left the Backpocket satiated with nutrition and croc knowledge - and with another six-pack of Burke's brews. On to Minnesota!

At least that was the plan. First, though, I came upon stopped traffic on I-380. That allowed me to make another U-turn through the median and to take in a full tour of wonderful Waterloo, IA.  Another seated hour was added to the journey north. Enough said.

It was 11:58 when the ct200h rolled into the Saint Cloud Fairfield Inn amidst a raging storm that I had driven through for more than an hour. I was so tense that my forearms ached, I felt fatigue to a level of constant yawning, my arse/hip flexers were extremely tight, cranky, and yet I was still giddy with excitement about being able to get up and race the Apple a few hours later.

Why was I giddy? Easy - because I wasn't sick! I first raced the Apple Du in 2000. That year I showed up not knowing I had contracted a virus from my son. I ran well to open the race, but began throwing up seven miles into the bike ride. It took me two ugly days to get back home. In 2009 I raced the Apple with mucus in my lungs after contracting an infection from my other son. I struggled again and placed third in the 45-49 AG to qualify for the ITU Du Worlds where I showed up healthy and placed second in the AG. Yes, I was giddy because I finally reached Sartell without an illness.

Back to bones, which seem to be a theme here. That hip dislocation did not qualify as an illness. It had derailed me during the Indy Mini, but I had seen steady improvement with therapy. I arrived in Sartell hoping that it would allow me to race hard.

The problem was tightness. The gluteal and piriformis muscles, along with the IT band, were in a battle to keep the hip in location during the Mini. All of these tissues then became extremely tight and sore in the days after that half marathon. I took time off and then shortened all training during the three weeks between races. I also went to all of my appointments and made certain to follow through with all of the assigned therapy. Competing against a tough field of athletes hoping to toe the line for ITU Du Worlds in Ottawa seemed like a good test of my recovery. The wincing faces in the doc's office when I told them I'd be driving all day were followed by strict orders to "attempt" to stay loose. That proved to be impossible.

Men fifty and over started in the last wave with the teams under a cloudy sky and in strong winds. It was a chilly 52F. The inclusion of the teams meant that a big crowd of old man duathletes started out with a bunch of younger guys who would not have to bike. Good! I thought that would propel me to good run splits. It didn't.

I watched helplessly as another older duathlete ran away from me. He put 20 seconds on me in the first four minutes and I couldn't do anything about it. I hit the first mile in 6:08 and my Polar RCX5 revealed that my heart rate was not even in my tempo zone. Everything in my midsection was tight. I was moving slower than my typical half marathon pace, yet my legs were moving as fast as those muscles would allow.  It simply wasn't fast enough!

After a pathetic T1 (due to an experiment with cycling shoes) I powered up the hill onto the bike leg. Again, I was tight, but my cadence and power were not too far from the level I had reached while riding in the Senior Games six days earlier when I clocked 13:54 (26.8 mph) for a 10K. I hoped this would allow me to catch the Mystery Man up as I plowed through the field of earlier waves on cracked and extremely bumpy roadways.

The 15-25 mph wind blew from the right rear early on. I knew that I needed to have something left for the upwind last eight miles, so I stayed just below what I felt I could handle. During the longest climb of the day Minnesotan and Evansville native Todd caught and passed me. The "51" on his calf reminded me that he was in my AG. Damn! Against my better judgement, I clicked up a gear. I did not let him get more than 20 seconds ahead of me because I guessed that I could make that up on the second run. Then I began to wonder where Mystery Man was and why Relay Guy, who fell from Todd's wheel on the climb, was trying to ride "with" me?

Eventually, the course turned into the ferocious wind when the course started to follow along the shore of the tiny Mississippi. That wind had been moving us all over the previous cracked road, so there was some added comfort in riding directly into the gale on a smoother service. I was glad that I had my carefree/go fast Ricky Bobby attitude.

By then I had become frustrated by Relay Guy and the crew of riders, now seven strong, who had formed a tight peloton.  I tried to pass a couple of times, but I wasn't about to pull another group into T2. I gave that up back in 1995. So, I dropped a gear and sat legal (3-5 bike lengths) off the back of the group that caught Todd and the Mystery Man in the closing miles of the ride.

The top three guys in the 50-54 AG entered T2 within seconds of each other. I, again, had a horrible transition and came out last. Mystery Man was going up the hill with Todd on his heels. I was about 20 seconds down. REALLY?!! I thought. I have too much experience to be giving up that much terrain in transitions.

I caught Todd at the top of the hill and asked him if he knew Mystery Man. He did not, but he urged me on to catch him. I gained on the guy until we made our first turn on the rectangular circuit. Then he began to gradually pull away. Again, I saw what were, for me, unacceptable mile splits. I just couldn't get my legs to turn over.

Mystery Man was still in the chute when I came in. I was staggered to learn that he was Andy. I had not raced against him in years. I had never beaten him. Within minutes the two of us were chatting with Todd, Derek, and others who have formed a loose band of aging athletes that have competed against each other at races all over the country during the last two decades. That shared time and those exchanged words were what I've always coveted most about racing far from home.

Interesting events happened after the race. First, Andy said that he only entered a week before the race. He had been thinking about worlds and wanted to qualify. He saw my name on the list and saw it change from 45-49 to 50-54 and knew he would be challenged.

Then, while I was waiting for the awards, I stood behind a crowd trying to see the results posted on a window. The group was discussing how tough the 50-54 AG had been (6th, 8th, and 14th OA). One man touched the results under my name and said "he was ranked number one in 45-49 last year!  I was, of course, listed as second in the AG. I chimed in "Yeah, he came here to win and got his ass kicked!" Someone asked "Do you know him?" I smiled and replied "Yeah, I'm him!" They all laughed.

Being able to test myself against awesome talent was icing on the cake. Though my performance was not what I am capable of, it gave me hope leading into worlds. I will get the hip issue under control and race better there. Getting beaten, outrun and out-transitioned, has kindled my fire and focused my efforts. It is going to be a fun summer!

What follows are more of the photos I took throughout the four day weekend. I visited several locals and had an outright great time! The afternoon and evening after the race were spent in romantic Stillwater, a Saint Croix River town, which is home to exceptional wineries, a microbrewery, and a peaceful view of Wisconsin hillsides across the river. I also stopped over in Madison, WI on the journey south to spend an night in downtown Chicago.

Click and enjoy!  Shane

Saint Croix Vineyards in Stillwater, MN

Andy, Derek, and I after the Apple.

Massive Transformer above the Lego
store in the  Mall of America.

Another great microbrewery in St. Paul.

Catching some Z's with Mr. Schulz's main man
and his best friend.

Ever lose your head from time to time?

They also fly the Canadian flag up north.

This guy seemed angry about a poor transition.

Todd, me, and Andy reminiscing.

A post-race catnap in an apple tree seemed appropriate.

Scenic and romantic Stillwater, MN at sunset.

Memorial Day Chicago Lakeshore Trail run amidst
the wind and clouds.

Millennium Park

Eye of "The Bean" at Millennium Park.

See you soon along some diverging pathway. 

Riding the Runway

After several passes on my certified downtown calibration course, I loaded up Hope and drove north on a gorgeous afternoon. This was last Wednesday. I met Barb from the Evansville YMCA and Nate from the Dress Regional Airport at Tri-State Aero in order to accurately measure the 5K on the Runway course. 

First, though, came a discussion about where the start/finish area would be staged. While great care should always be taken when considering the start and finish lines of a race, there were extra considerations for this event because the airport was not going to shut down. Planes would need to be staged at Tri-State Aero on race morning. Planes would be landing just before and after the run. And there was always the chance that an emergency landing might occur during the event. The discussion resulted in a need to measure two separate courses having two different start/finish lines. The final course choice would be decided during a meeting already scheduled for the following morning.

We were trying to make a common start and finish line. That meant that I had to pick a random spot, ride the loop, and then see where the finish would be in relation to the start. From there I had to split the difference to create another "line" before riding again to test the adjustment. A third pass would then take place in order to test for repeatability and set mile markers. It is USATF protocol that the longest of the two measurements be used as the race day course.

With Barb in shotgun, Nate, a fellow Purdue alumnus, talked to someone on a radio before he led the way for me in white Crown Victoria. I'm not sure what would have happened to me if Nate had not made the call or if that cliche of a car had not been there with its spinning blue lights. I wondered, as I pedaled along, if there were men with guns ready to take out threats. I wondered if a guy in spandex on a bike would even qualify as a threat. I doubted both, but I was glad Nate was there.

Graffiti artist on a getaway rocket.

I was also glad that Nate was not thinking about tangents while he drove. By making wide turns, he allowed me to see the markers that I needed to in order to properly ride the shortest route by connecting one tangent after another on that winding course. This was especially important as I made the kilometer-long crossing of the main runway. 

That was a looooong tangent!

Earlier in the day I had consulted googlemaps.com to study the airport using the course map that Barb had given me. I realized immediately that I would need a visual marker on the far end of the runway in oder to cut that long tangent. I chose the last of the broad white lines marking the end of the runway. On Wednesday afternoon, when I first turned onto the runway I was pleasantly pleased that Nate was off to my right and that I could very clearly make out that white line.

It was, at times, difficult to muster up the fortitude to stay on the shortest path. Take, for example, the time I was on the long arc at the north end of the course and an airport service truck played chicken with me. Or the time I rode straight at the backhoe that seemed to want my line - I finally and firmly pointed him out of my way seconds before our would-be collision. Or the time that a 747 attempted to land on my line . . . yes, I know, a bird that big in Eville is too unrealistic to even consider (sorry Nate).

Admittedly, riding on the runway created an adrenaline rush that caused me to ride hard up the slight incline into the wind. On the first two passes I registered speeds in excess of 28 mph. My not quite fit legs still pushed hard on the pedals on the last three loops, but the speeds were not as high. I was high, though, as I experienced some Ricky Bobby time on an airport runway.

We covered both courses multiple times, but Nate felt certain that the original route would be used for the race, so I only rode the other course twice. The precision of the USATF measuring method has never been more surprising than what it was on that course.

That precision came even on the fourth pass when I encountered several hundred meters of some slimy mud near the finish. Movement of heavy construction equipment on the perimeter road had left lots of dirt on the roadway. Just before I arrived there on the fourth pass a truck sprayed water on that dirt, creating the slimy mud. Hope and I were, within seconds, covered in the cold and foul tasting grime. And I struggled to control the bike. It was FUN!!!

That last line was a boldfaced lie . . .

Since there is no printable data from the measuring device, I decided to include in this post some of the data from my final pass of the route that was used for the actual race. Curiosity and a need to record my riding caused me to wear my Polar RC3 GPS for each loop. I was a bit surprised at how accurate and precise it was despite the way gps units always cut corners. The final measurements for both courses were 3.12 miles, which is not too far from the 3.1069 miles for a 5000-meter course.

All GPS units measure point-to-point between signal recordings - in straight lines. This is clearly not as accurate as the calibrated counter on a bicycle wheel. Note: I did NOT ride through the grass . . .

I've measured many courses for Barb. She has always asked me, as a competitor, what I thought of the courses. I told her that I liked this one, but I smiled when I told her that people would complain that it was too long. I've seen enough races to know that most people simply don't run good tangents, so they run too far. And nowadays, with gps units strapped to so many wrists, people are always complaining about courses being wrong. Even the courses measured to USATF certification standards like this one. I guessed that a typical runner might register 3.25 to 3.30 miles for the 5K on the Runway I had just measured to about 15 feet accuracy.

And that is exactly what happened on race morning :)

The field of 442 runners and walkers corralled and ready to run.