The Standing Desk

I've done a number of things over the past several days to get my psoas back in good working order.  These have included:

• Stretching, which is somewhat difficult to do at home, as whenever I unfurl the yoga mat, Dorito thinks I'm offering him a rubber scratching pad.  
• Rolling.  This hurts like hell, and I don't know why anyone would ever do this.  I am stopping immediately.
• Massage.  This also hurts like hell, and my neighbors definitely think I'm in an unsafe relationship, because one night this week TG tried to help and I started screaming "stop touching me! Why are you always trying to hurt me?!"  
• Standing at my desk. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The standing desk was constructed on Monday morning using a variety of materials I found around the office.  I suspect Apartment Therapy will be calling me any day now, wanting to feature this masterpiece of workplace aesthetic on their site:

The arrow is meant to draw your attention to the fact that a case of expired hard cider is now integral to my job performance.

So far, the standing desk seems to have little impact on my psoas, but significant impact on my ability - or lack thereof - to eat soup for lunch without spilling it all down my front.  My hip doesn't feel any better, but it doesn't feel worse either, which is to say, it doesn't hurt at all (my IT band sure does though, as a result of rolling too hard), but I'm cognizant of it as a body part in a way I don't otherwise think about, say, my ear throughout the day.  There does seem to be a correlation between speed and the stabbing pain, so this week's tempo run has been shelved (you can imagine how disappointed I am to miss out on the opportunity to revisit the puke threshold...).  

I'm holding out hope that dialing back intensity in the form of taking out speedwork will enable me to sustain weekly mileage, but subconsciously know that's probably never happened in the history of running.  If I don't see improvement by the end of this week, I imagine next week will feature many fewer miles.  The Inverse Function dictates that, if that happens, my beer intake will see significant growth.  See also: Property of Ones.

Monday Wrap Up: Stretching is (p)SO(as) Important

For the past several weeks, I've been ignoring an occasional stabbing pain in the front of my left hip.  That’s always a good way to start a story about running, isn't it?  The pain wasn't constant, but about once every run, I was struck with a very sharp pain that caused a hiccup in my stride.  Usually, correcting my form or easing off my pace would solve the problem, though with each run, the pain lasted a little longer, or it came twice (that’s what she said).  It was a concern, to be sure, and one that even resulted in my – gasp – stretching and foam rolling last week.  One time.  Big commitment.  But since it didn't happen all the time, I mostly pretended it wasn't happening at all. 

Shockingly, that strategy hasn't helped, and after 6 straight days of running, two airplane flights which required sitting in cramped quarters for extended periods, and a 20 miler, my hip is not feeling great.  Nor is my lower back, which hurt so badly after my long run yesterday I wondered if maybe I had kidney stones. 

What does it all mean?  My psoas is fucked.

The lightening bolt is where the stabbing happens. Source

Well maybe not quite fucked.  But 30 years of neglecting stretching and strength training seems to have caught up with me, and now this deep hip flexor, which goes from femur to spine and is responsible for things like lifting your leg up and down and keeping your pelvis facing in the right direction, is in dire need of some TLC.

So that’s what I’ll give it, in the form of stretching and not spending 10 hours at a time sitting down in front of my computer.  And also not ignoring it when it feels like I’m being stabbed in the pelvis, and maybe listening to my body.  

There is some good news, however.  According to Runner’s World, a solution to this problem is NOT to do core work:

"Doing too many sit-ups actually trains the psoas muscle to be short. And in running, you want the psoas to relax and extend. If it's too taut, then the psoas can't lengthen. Without that length, the psoas can't contract with as much force." Six-pack abs should come with a warning label: Runners beware--too many sit-ups may cause psoas tightness.

Core work should be thought of like vitamins, beneficial only in small doses. Popping too many Centrums can be hazardous to your health. Likewise, too many crunches can wreak havoc on your psoas. Source

Phew!  Thought I might actually have to do my first sit ups since the Presidential Physical Fitness test in 5^th grade.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 47.  20 miles yesterday wasn't even that horrible, because the weather was so nice! 

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week:  Believe it or not, just 4.  Part of this was because the W Atlanta Midtown did everything in its power to prevent me from drinking (and while many of you recognized that most objects can be used as bottle openers, that was actually not a skill I ever developed, and I figured showing up to a work dinner with bits of broken glass lodged in my hands due to a failed attempt probably wouldn't behoove my career).

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: 3 Bud Lights and a Narragansett.  Because I had dinner at Shake Shack last night.  Because, 20 milers, man. 

And Now You Know I'm 30

After my work event last night, I returned to the W Midtown Atlanta and walked into a packed bar. I sidled and "excuse me'd" my way to the front, where I ordered a glass of wine. I had beer in my hotel mini fridge upstairs, you see, but discovered the hard way the night before that there was no bottle opener with which I might be able to get the beer out, and after calling the front desk, discovered that the hotel was "out" of bottle openers. They could, however, send a server up to my room to open a bottle for me. Accommodating, but also creepy and vaguely implicit of problem drinking. So I ordered a glass of wine, from the bar, and immediately took upstairs to my room, where I put on my pjs and watched House of Cards alone on a Friday night. All that was missing was my cat (miss you, Dorito!)



My rocking Friday night was interrupted when I was awakened at 1:45am by the sounds of loud, drunk people. After some investigating, I realized the sounds were coming from the outdoor bar, 7 floors below. I called the front desk.

"Excuse me, what time does the bar downstairs close?"

"Bars usually close around 2:30am." I think she thought perhaps I was interested in a nightcap, but I imagine my flannel pants with football players on them weren't quite appropriate.

Considering it was a Friday, and 2:30am wasn't that far off, I tried to go back to sleep. As I replaced the phone, I noticed a card on my nightstand, wishing me a good night sleep.




"Our goal is to make your sleep perfectly perfectly pleasant so that you can wake up ready to enjoy our glorious Southern city." My plans were to wake up to enjoy a glorious basement fitness center before getting the hell out of the South, but I kept reading and discovered the W recommended two white noise apps, which probably indicates I'm not the first unhappy business traveler to be awakened by a nightclub. I cued up ye olde iPhone and soon enough was listening to the crackling of a roaring fire. Or, straining to listen to the crackling of a roaring fire over the shouts of drunk people, two of whom might have been breaking up at 2:05am. My apartment in New York is virtually on the Queensboro bridge, so I'm no stranger to sleeping through noise. Which is all the more reason why, when I'm in a hotel, I want it to be quiet and restful. I called the front desk again.

"I'm really sorry, because I know it's a Friday night, but the noise from the bar downstairs is unbearable. Is there anything that can be done?"

I might as well have added "and in case you can't tell by the fact that I'm complaining about a bar being loud on a Friday night, I'm old now."

In conclusion, eventually things quieted down shortly after 2:30am, my alarm went off at 5am, I sleep-ran through 6 miles, and I think I'll stick with Hiltons from now on. They may not have Bliss beauty products, but they definitely have bottle openers, and at least surrounded by 40-and 50-something business men, I still feel young and hip.

I Love the Nightlife

As I mentioned, I'm in Atlanta this week for work.  I'm staying in the W Midtown, because someone else booked my hotel.  Frequent business travelers, it's worth noting, get into heated debates about their hotel rewards programs.  I, for example, am ride or die Hilton Honors 4 lyfe.  But many of my colleagues are Starwoods Preferred Guests, so when rooms were booked, I got the short straw.  I know suffering and hardship, you guys.

Anyway, because I don't normally stay at Starwood properties, I was unfamiliar with the accommodations.  When I first got to my room, I was impressed.  Granted, a spacious work surface and good bathroom products are really all it takes for me, but I was greeted by both.  And a bathrobe.  There are even amenities I won't use, including:

• a kaleidoscope
• a full bar, in my room, which includes normal-sized bottles of Patron, Grey Goose, Absolut, and Maker's
• a "pleasure set," which includes condoms, lubricant, and breath mints

I spent the entirety of my day yesterday working in my room, so when it was finally time to close up ye olde lappy, the 70 degree temps and modicum of sunshine were long gone.  Determined to stick to my training, I headed to the fitness center for an easy run.

The fitness center, while small, was also well apportioned, with soft towels, cold water, wipes for the machine, wipes for my face, and apples.  I merrily ran along, watching HGTV from the comfort of my treadmill until 5 miles had passed, toweled off, snagged an apple, and headed upstairs.

When I boarded the elevator, I looked around and, what do you know, everyone else was also clad in spandex!  Look at all these like-minded business travelers, squeezing in their workouts! A commonality between myself and my brethren in the South! Except, I was the only one wearing sneakers.  It seems one additional highlight of the W Midtown is its bar scene, and 9pm on a Wednesday night seems to be prime time.

If you need me tonight, I'll be in my room watching Scandal.  Have fun in da club.  Use a condom pleasure set!

Edited to add: There is no in room coffee maker.  I had to put on a bra to go downstairs and get coffee this morning.  This is the worst suffering I've ever known.  You're dead to me, Starwood.

Wednesday Wrap Up: Choosing to Run, After Choosing Not To

The holiday weekend was a great one: 3 days in New England spent walking around Newport and Little Compton and North Conway, drinking local beers, watching the Olympics, seeing old friends, hiking, playing in the snow, and eating bar food. Excellent for the soul, but less so for marathon training. While I diligently knocked out workouts before we left, nailing my speed work for the week, I ran precisely once in the three days we were out of New York, for 3.5 miles. Long, slow distance, that is not.

Can't run if you can't move your legs below the knees

Between the rest stop snacks that come with a road trip and the lack of sufficient mileage (and the being cooped up in a car for six hours, and the acute depression that comes when a long weekend ends...), I was feeling pretty discouraged about my physical health and fitness on Monday night. Faced with another business trip this week (Hotlanta, you better actually have warm temperatures to offer me), I wondered if I'd ever get back on the wagon in terms of my training. Maybe I should just bag the season, run Boston and Sugarloaf for fun, and chase down a PR in the fall instead.

Boo hoo, my vacation interfered with my hobby! My diamond shoes are pinching my feet! Snap out of it, Claire.

I've been doing this marathon gig for long enough to know that one missed long run doesn't make or break a season. With an 18 miler already on the books for the month and 8 weeks to go until Boston, I have a solid base and plenty of time left for multiple 20+ milers.

Not only that, but part of what makes marathoning rewarding for the amateur is knowing that you managed to do it while juggling a job and a social life. It's one thing to feel good about nailing your splits, but it's a next level endorphin high to know you nailed your splits and almost skipped the workout to begin with to drink beers in your underpants with Netflix and your cat (hypothetical example...). Sandbagging from here on out, choosing not to make those choices, regardless of whether or not you make the "right" ones all the time, would take the fun out of it.

So here's to the sacrifice. Without it, we'd have nothing to humblebrag about.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 25.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 12.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Otter Creek's Shed Mountain Ale, Moat Mountain's Bone Shaker Brown, Tuckerman's Pale Ale, Otter Creek's Citra Mantra, Foolproof's Raincloud Robust Porter, Maine Beer's King Titus Porter, Smuttynose's Shoals Pale Ale, Bell's Smitten Golden Rye, Bissell Brothers' The Substance, and a Bud Light or a Guinness or something, I'm sure.

Monday Wrap Up: And Now, I'm 30

If you haven't done it yet, I highly recommend turning 30. Sure, it may have derailed a speed workout, but it included a hot dog, Peeper Ale (among many, many other intoxicants), two sandwiches, a trip to the Museum of Natural History, a SoulCycle class, $30 in bar photo booth pictures, and 18 miles fueled by a shot of Fireball, so on measure, I should say it was a success.




Better still, I hear one's thirties are awesome: you're finally good at and important in your career, you have disposable income, you're over being insecure and self conscious about any number of inconsequential things, and God willing in my case, you'll finally master shaving your legs without leaving behind scores of bloody towels.

My 29th birthday, as you may recall, was not a super time in my life, so I approached 30 with a fair amount of apprehension, and a strong commitment to NOT adopt another cat. Thanks to everyone who made it a great day and helped me make good on that promise.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 39. I did miss 7 miles with 5 @ GMP, which isn't the best of workouts to miss from a training standpoint (it's an excellent one to miss from a pain and anguish standpoint), but yesterday's 18+ miles at a quick clip with plenty of hills left me feeling pretty good about where I am in terms of fitness and training.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: I couldn't even begin to speculate. Suffice it to say, it was a lot.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Maine Beer Company's Peeper Ale and Lunch IPA, which we stumbled on during a most fortuitous birthday lunch, Avery's Ellie's Brown Ale, Avery's IPA, Kronenbourg, Bud Light, Brooklyn Lager, Sierra Nevada, Six Point Sweet Action, Guinness... basically if it's on tap in a bar in New York, I drank it. Thank God you only turn 30 once.

Hurry, There's Still Time!

I came across the following while reading my favorite sports-n-dick-jokes website today:

There comes an age at which you stop giving a shit about free alcohol. When it's no longer worth your while to go somewhere just because you'll have a bottomless keg at your disposal. Obviously, it helps if you make a decent income, but once you hit age 30, free beer does not have the allure it used to. 

Emphasis mine.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have 9 hours to find complimentary Bud Lights while it still matters...

Tuesday Wrap Up: Winter is Coming

Just kidding, it's absolutely already here.

Photo credit: TG

Last week featured more of the same: cold, wet weather that required some indoor running.  

My shorts, and my icy view from the hotel treadmill in Chicago

It also featured some staying out until nearly 4am, which meant a few easy miles were not exactly completed... But in the final days of my 20s, I'm more proud of being able to stay out until close than I would be of running those extra miles.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 33.  Oops?  All the important stuff was accomplished - a 16 miler along the Lake Front Trail, plus a GMP run on the hotel treadmill - along with a couple days of easy running.  And a couple days of zero running but much fun-having.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Infinity.  It takes an awful lot of beers, and one Irish coffee, to keep me up past my bedtime.

Types of Beers Consumed: As usual, I tried to drink beers in Chicago that I can't get my hands on in New York: Off Color's Scurry, Bell's Kalamazoo Stout, New Holland's Dragon's Milk Imperial Stout (which I just realized is 10% ABV, and which I had to kill time before a dinner meeting, which is aggressive...), Firestone Walker's Pale 31, Two Brothers' Outlaw IPA. I also drank about 90 Bud Lights, a few Smuttynose Old Brown Dogs, Lagunitas' A Little Sumpin' Sumpin', and a Sixpoint Sweet Action.

This week has already featured one winter storm, which sent me to the treadmill with my tail between my legs.  This morning, I braved the Park for a fairly sloppy and icy 8 miler, since that might be the only outdoor run I'll see this week.  Another 4-8 inches are predicted overnight, along with a half inch of ice, which is calling up previously repressed memories of the time I broke my tailbone in college and had to sit on a donut (read: hemorrhoid) pillow in the library during finals for all of Colby to see.  Thank god for the gym, or at least for my trail running shoes, or if all else fails, for alcohol.

(P.S. Speaking of the need for alcohol, I'm turning 30 on Friday.  So, there's that...)