Feeling Blah? You're Not Alone

Tips to Harness Motivation

It’s a phenomenon every runner has experienced: Some training sessions, you feel motivated, energetic and capable of pushing your body to its limits. Other days, you barely feel inspired enough to plod through a recovery run.

Sports psychologists say low-motivation days are no accident, and say negative thoughts can stymie motivation and jeopardize performance, for pros and weekend warriors alike.

“I think every athlete has those moments of doubt,” says 10,000m American record-holder Shalane Flanagan, who worked with sports psychologist Greg Dale while running cross country and track at University of North Carolina. “My doubts are usually along the lines of, ‘Maybe I’m not fit enough or strong enough to do this.’”

Flanagan combats those motivation-zappers with visualization exercises, including one she calls upon often frequently during tough workouts.

“I’ll pretend I’m grinding out the last 600 against the top Ethiopian runners,” Flanagan says. “I just visualize running against them, and getting that fast time, or winning the race, during a workout, and it gives me that little boost of motivation.”

Sports psychologists offer the following tips for other runners looking to harness their motivation:

Identify negative thoughts. Sports psychologist Alison Arnold, founder ofHead Games Sports in Westford, Massachusetts, has coached a host of Olympic athletes and warns that negative thoughts can be sneaky. We know better than to tell ourselves we're about to have a bad workout. We're more likely to make definitive statements like, “I always get tired around this point,” or, “I never run well in the morning,” Arnold says. And Greg Dale, now a professor of Sport Psychology and Sport Ethics and the director of sports psychology and leadership programs for Duke University athletic teams, says something as simple as the weather can spur a chain of performance-hampering thoughts. “If you say, ‘Man, it’s going to be hot out today,’ you plant a seed before you ever get started that it’s going to be a crappy run,” Dale says. Dale tells athletes to keep a journal tracking their thoughts before, during and after workouts to learn how their thought patterns affect their performance.

Substitute positive thoughts – or at least neutral ones. Dale says it’s important to acknowledge negative thoughts, then to rationalize them with thoughts that are “positive, truthful, and relevant to you.” “You don’t need to tell yourself, ‘I’m the fastest runner in world and I feel wonderful today,’” Dale says. Arnold says it’s OK to take "one step up on the feel-good scale." Rather than telling yourself you feel fabulous when you’re slogging through a long run, simply tell yourself you can make it to the next curve in the road, Arnold says.

Find out what works, then feed it. Once you figure out which positive thoughts fuel your best performance, feed them with breathing, music and continued positive self-talk, Arnold says. Dale suggests having a specific plan to direct your brain toward performance-boosting thoughts during difficult parts of races or workouts. Arnold says a pre-run ritual of stretches, music or breathing exercises can “anchor the mind, and prepare the mind for what it’s about to do.”

Infuse long-term goals with passion. Every runner should have a long-term goal they’re passionate about, and should remind themselves frequently why that goal is important with visual representations and key phrases, Arnold says. This can mean a course map on the refrigerator, a motivational quote on the bathroom mirror or a billboard with inspirational magazine cutouts and photos. Arnold recommends dedicating races, either formally or informally. “When you’re doing something for a cause, there’s emotion involved,” Arnold says. "That's what will carry you through the hard days."

Let yourself feel disappointment. Then, move past it. Arnold says it’s important to “honor yourself” by not squelching feelings of anger or sadness after a disappointing workout or race. But she says it’s also important to consciously move past the disappointment. Dale suggests using visualization, saying one athlete he worked with imagined pouring a bucket of water over her head to wash away negative feelings. Arnold says it helps to diffuse a difficult runs with humor and “a lightness of being.” “It is so important to not take ourselves too seriously,” Arnold says. “There is such a difference between saying, ‘I can’t finish this run today’ and saying, ‘I guess today’s my day to just walk and smell the roses.’"

Channel past successes. Dreading your speed workout? Spend a few minutes visualizing your best race before heading out the door, says Eugene sports psychology consultant and marathoner Kay Porter. In the last few laps of the 10K in the 2008 Olympics, Flanagan imagined she was finishing a tough workout on the American Tobacco Trail in North Carolina. “It made me feel like it was just another hard workout,” Flanagan says. “It calmed my nerves, so I could execute the way I’d execute in practice.” The proof it worked: Flanagan netted a bronze medal. 

Open Water Anxiety - all gone!

I stumbled across this piece in "Triathlete" - a good overview of how not to freak out in an open water swim.

'Nuff said: 

A few years ago, watching an open-water swim left a lasting impression on me. It was at the Cayuga Lake Triathlon in Ithaca, NY, where my wife, Alice, was participating in the 1.5k relay leg.

I watched five waves, each with some 80 participants, start the swim. Each time the same pattern unfolded: Following the start, 10 percent of the field swam steadily and confidently down the course. Another 20 percent swam reasonably well in their wake. Fully 70 percent swam uncertainly at best, barely at all in some cases, stopping frequently, switching to breaststroke, turning on their backs. Generally they took five to ten minutes to settle their nerves before making steadier progress. 

Alice, a skilled swimmer with 30 years of pool experience, who had swum two miles and more at Total Immersion Open Water camps, was among those who looked overwhelmed and unable to swim at anything like her true ability until the field spread out.

New triathletes have a right to be a little timid when it comes to the open-water swim. Even 2008 Olympic open-water silver medalist David Davies said he felt "violated by people swimming all over me." If an Olympic medalist feels that distressed, what chance does a triathlete have of being comfortable in a chaotic swim start?

Actually, a very good one.

When it comes to swimming, the majority of triathletes have a more urgent need to learn how to be comfortable than to increase speed or fitness. Here’s my four-part prescription for new triathletes to maximize their chances of a safer, happier swim in their first race and every race.

1. Learn Balance. This is the primary skill that gives you a sense of having control over your body in the water. In TI, balance is the foundation for every subsequent swimming skill. Learning to control that sinking legs sensation gives you confidence you can learn to control other things—like anxiety in open water. And feeling support for the water brings an overall sense of calm.

2. Practice Mindful Swimming. Replacing reactive thinking with calm, observant, reflective thinking is integral to the process of learning balance and every subsequent skill in the Total Immersion method. The ability to exert control over what and how you think in an environment where you may not be able to control much else is the best defense against anxiety. When teaching Total Immersion Open Water camps, I always teach our students how to use focus to create a “cocoon of calm” in the midst of exterior turmoil.

3. Practice with a Tempo Trainer. An inevitable result of the fight-or-flight response in open water is a shift to high-rate survival strokes, which greatly increases respiration rate. Faster, shallower breaths make you feel light-headed, making an uncomfortable situation even more so. Using a Tempo Trainer to encode a controlled tempo in your nervous system will also control your respiration rate.

4. Avoid the rush. After the start signal, take your time before you begin swimming, and/or start at the perimeter of the pack. “I remind my triathletes of pythagorean geometry: On a 200-yard stretch, if you start 60 feet outside the most direct path to the first buoy, you’ll only swim one yard farther to get there,” Says Total Immersion coach Dave Cameron.

What to do when anxiety strikes anyway?

It’s not the end of the world if you still feel your heart, breathing and stroke rates getting away from you. Here’s how to handle that.

Hit the reset button. It’s so common to feel some anxiety early in the swim leg, that all new triathletes should have a plan for recovering from anxiety—and practice it in advance. The athletes I observed at the Cayuga Lake event had the right idea: Swim 10 or 12 strokes of breaststroke—a more naturally relaxing style than crawl. Stretch out fully with head hanging between your shoulders. Emphasize a leisurely glide, exhaling fully to clear CO2 and slow respiration. As you do, remind yourself how great it is to be living it in such a vibrant manner. Take a few more strokes and breaths to visualize how you want your crawl stroke to feel, and then get back to it calmly and easily.

Become the "quiet center." I personally love pack swimming and swim better with close company than alone. A primary reason I enjoy it so much is that it sharpens my focus. When swimming with others in open water, I observe their strokes and turn it into a game, testing my ability to swim with a quieter, more leisurely stroke than anyone around me. In fact I enjoy it so much I’m sometimes sorry to see the race end. When in a pack, strive to swim with a more relaxed stroke than all those around you. This will help turn your swim leg from pressure-filled into a game or work of art.

see ya in the lake

Mellow Johnny

"I'mmmmmm Baaaaack"....

So, after Boston, I sort of laid low and in light of everything that happened during - and after - the marathon, sort of lost my mojo.

But, one can't wallow forever, so, I slowly headed back into training, knowing that the ITU World's are only 16 weeks away - and full on training seemed to be the way out of the darkness that Boston foisted on all of us.

Under the excellent - but often merciless! - coaching of Tommy Ferris Team Ignition Fitness, we targeted the Binbrook Triathlon as the first tri of the year.
Having raced this event for the last several years, it is a great season opener to shake off the rust and get back into the game. John Salt, Jason V and the team at MultiSport Canada put on a fantastic series of events and this one is one of my favs - warm lake, flat bike on beautiful country roads and flatter cross country run: perfect for me!
So with more swim/bike/run miles on my aging and pretty creaky body than last year (thanks Coach!), I was pretty excited about how going from the long tempos of Boston training to the "seeing red from hurling blood" fast shite would play out (and of course, there was and is the great unknown: my wonky hip - but more on that later).
Race day started with the usual bad sleep - you would think after nearly 25 years of racing every summer I would have this dialed in, but nope, still get those butterflies and nerves, which I suppose is a good thing?!
Arriving and setting up in transition was like old home week - all the old farts in my age group [50 plus...] were there: Brett, Alfred, et al - really great to see all the gang back, and they are as competitive as ever!
The race - well, suffice it to say I made the usual "early season mistakes" - but overall I was pleased with the whole race.
My swim was quick - and thankfully the water was quite warm [relative to Lake O!]; out 3rd, as usual I was passed on the run up by what seemed like the entire 11th grade of a local high school! Great bike - pushed up and stayed in 3rd - which is where I started the run about 300m back from the 2nd place runner.

And the start of the run is where I had one of those "come-to-Jesus" moments: do I settle for 3rd, or not...
I think we have all had those internal chats with ourselves during a race: "Hey John, it's your legs - this pace is too hard! Settle back, go easy, no shame in 3rd, pal - 3rd is better than 4th - so relax, and stop hurting so much..."
You know what I mean - the dark demon of mediocrity!
But as Jens Voight [he of TDF fame] is known to say, "shut up legs".
And so, I sucked it up, and while I knew this was going to hurt - a lot - I began to try and run down the two guys in front of me.
And it was a good day - and I was able to somehow put together the turnover to catch Roman, who was battling hard to stay up front - and take 1st overall.

*ya, I did the "hands on knees and drool" thing at the finish line. nice.

                                                                           

The better news was that I although one year older and thus should-be-slower, I actually had a better swim, bike and run time then last year -and shaved over a minute off my ridiculous "are-you-kidding-me-how-slow-that was" transitions (seriously - I freakin' hate transitions - since when does it take a minute to take off a bloody wetsuit> For god's sake, when I was in university living in my frat, with the right sorority girl, I could make 2 martinis, get completely undressed and throw on some sexy tunes in less time than that!)(...if my wife is reading this, kidding!).

My teammates from Team Ignition Fitness also tore up the course - with Jesse, Cavin, and Keith having stellar races (man, if I could run like Jesse - and ride like Keith - I would be SuperHero fast!).
And: my training partner also podiumed - in only her second full tri [awesome job Mits!] so it was a good day all around.
After I finished, I went for a nice easy cool down run on the country roads - and yes, like a total idiot, I missed the awards - so there are the two podium shots: overall winners, with me absent, and then me, hopping up and getting a solo pic (big shout out as usual to Mike Cheliak and his team for their usual excellent race pics!).

I also found this race summary on You Tube: great coverage of the race, and for my money, it gets really good at around 7:10 into the vid - hahaha (note to self: wipe race crap off face if on camera after crossing finish line!)(and ya, some of the other racers really were "so young", or is that just a reflection, sadly, that I am just bloody old?).

So there it is: 2013's race #1 under the belt.
See ya in Welland.
Johnny Boy

ps: go 'Hawks.

After Boston: Run the Recovery

I read this piece, by American distance runner Mike Cassidy, in the upcoming May 2013 "Running Times".
Wish I had written it...

I am a runner.

I’m also an American. I’m a Catholic. I’m a New Yorker. I’m a graduate student. I’m a former government employee.

Those things describe me. But running defines me.

I am a runner who ran the 2013 Boston Marathon. My family and I — like most runners — were fortunate to be out of harm’s way. The victims were someone else’s child, someone else’s parent, someone else’s friend. Their faces and names were unfamiliar, their pain incomprehensible.

But they were part of the tribe of runners, family and friends of runners. They are the type of people who sacrifice Friday nights for Saturday mornings — or support it. The type of people who measure life in minutes per mile — or can interpret it. The type of people whose most treasured possession stinks up the closet — or at least don’t complain about it. They are strangers, but they are runners, and so we know who they are.

Runners share an unspoken bond, a spiritual affinity that runs deeper than age or race, nationality or religion. Show me a runner, and I’ll show you a friend. Running identifies.

Running is not something you do; it is something you are. It’s a worldview as much as it is a form of exercise. It’s a way of life as much as it is a sport. It’s a state of being as much as it is a means of transportation. An attack on any of us running is an attack on all of us.

That is why we must run on.

The cruelest part of the bombings was the jarring juxtaposition between the senseless slaughter of innocents and the marathon’s jubilant pageantry. In an instant, something we had spent months and years meticulously preparing for became magnificently inconsequential. Our standard obsessions — in my case, a disappointing finishing time — suddenly seemed astoundingly selfish.

The overriding sentiment was one of shocked disbelief, tinged with anxious outrage. A sacred ritual had been gruesomely desecrated. We were confused, angry, scared. We wanted comfort, security, revenge. But most of all, we wanted answers.

Who did this? How could this happen? Will marathons change forever? 

In the wake of tragedy it is natural to ask questions. To change perspectives. To challenge priorities.

As runners, we were forced to confront a troubling truth: Running was fallible, even trivial. As we watched others suffer, we were forced to ask: Does running matter?

And the reality is: Running doesn’t matter as much as we think. It matters more.

When despair is overwhelming, what do we do?  Go for a run. When stress is oppressive, what do we do? Go for a run. When hope is gone and all seems lost, what do we do? Go for a run.

A run can turn the worst day into the best day; it can bring us from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs. I ran after September 11, I ran after the deaths of my grandparents, and I run whenever things aren’t going my way. It never fails.

If the perpetrators wanted to inflict lasting devastation, they could not have picked a worse target. Running defies destruction.

To run is to live. Running nourishes our muscles and nurtures our minds. It induces clarity of thought, vitality of physiology, and tranquility of emotion. It demands complete unity of body and spirit, it requires your legs, your lungs, your heart, your mind, but rewards all those parts too. It’s in this harmonious holism that we come to understand our true identities, our authentic selves. The universe’s uncertainty is distilled into a singularity: We exist in and of the moment. In the midst of entropy, serene bliss. In the midst of confusion, clarity. Surrounded by constraints, we are freed. Running creates.

But running is more than the antithesis of terror; it is also the antidote. Just as a vaccine implicates pestilence in its own defense, running takes pain as a template and produces something beautiful.

Terror holds no more power over running than wind over wildfire. Runners do not avoid suffering, they embrace it. Pain is merely the pathway to our potential. From the depths of agony rise meaning and purpose.

It is perhaps this fact that separates runners from non-runners, and it’s why we are the subject of curious bemusement and occasional derision. In a world that celebrates leisure and luxury, runners seek austerity. In a world in search of simple answers, runners chase impossible questions. In a society that valorizes the easy way, runners take the path of most resistance.

But it goes deeper than that. We do it together. Running unites.

The falsest truism in all of sports is that running is an individual pursuit. Anyone who has ever run for a team recognizes the value of training partners. They push us when we’re hurting. They make us laugh when we want to scream. They turn our doubts into confidence, our dreams into realities. United by shared sacrifice, they become lasting friends.

But the same is true of our opponents. In running, there is no such thing as foes, only co-conspirators. It’s one of the few competitive endeavors where my success doesn’t mean your failure.

Sure, only one person can win — but it’s not a zero-sum game. The real rewards are diffuse and self-defined. Victory and defeat — these occur internally, in our ability to conquer our emotions and triumph over our own limitations. Work together, and we realize collective greatness. Our fates are linked. It’s no accident that records are often set in pairs. As much as relative success yields medals, as much as podiums mean prize money, as much as second place is a footnote, we cannot hide from our most relentless rival: ourselves.

And this amicable accord extends beyond the athletes to the fans. In running, the sidelines are part of the playing field. If competitors require us to run faster, crowds inspire it. Nothing can galvanize greatness as much as throngs of screaming fans. Running persists on passion. It rides on emotion. Cheers can’t compensate for underprepared hearts or untrained legs, but they can make those hearts beat a little faster and those legs drive a little harder. 

Just as important as the volume is the attitude: inclusive rather than exclusive, universal rather than partisan. In running, cheering for someone doesn’t mean rooting against someone else. Being a fan at a marathon is an expression of genuine altruism: helping a stranger without request or recompense.

Kind words infuse failing spirits with optimism. Internal anguish is transformed into external glory. I’ve always felt a marathon felt seems shorter when it’s 26.2 miles of compliments. Adrenaline is a heck of a drug.

Nowhere is this more obvious than Boston, where the fans are unquestionably the most passionate, most knowledgeable spectators in our sport (and this is coming from a Yankee fan). In many cities, a marathon is a significant event; in Boston, it is a holiday. Lined with fans, Heartbreak Hill feels flatter. With applause echoing, the Citgo sign approaches faster. When you do something for 117 years, you get pretty good.

It’s days like the Boston Marathon that remind us the running community is greater than the sum of its parts. Bound by the pursuit of the same ephemeral euphoria, our collective presence makes its realization all the more likely.

This is why running community must carry on — not in spite of Boston, but because of it.

As we heal from the attacks, the right question to ask is not if we should run, but why we run.

It’s not about running logs or mile splits, PRs or age-group awards, breaking tapes or setting records. It’s much more basic than that. We run because it’s who we are.

Running cannot resurrect lives or repair limbs, but it can recall the spirit that brings us together on Marathon Monday. It reminds us that even on the loneliest of long runs, we are not alone. We are part of something bigger. What distinguishes running is not solitariness, but solidarity.

Each run is an emphatic statement for everything that terrorism is not. Terrorism destroys; running creates. Terrorism divides; running unites. Terrorism is about fear; running is about hope. Terrorism signifies giving up; running means pushing ahead. Terrorism represents humankind at its malevolent worst; running, people at their inspirational best.

When we run, we take a stand for life, and in so doing, we bring into being the very spirit that defines the greatest threat to terrorism: the unconditional embrace of existence, the relentless optimism that progress is possible, and the unflinching conviction that our individual hopes are inseparable from our shared humanity.

To transcend our limits, we must confront our own mortality. As runners, reaching new levels demands staring human fragility in the face, accepting the futility of our quest, and forging ahead anyway.

Then somehow, when those magic Marathon Mondays come, what was once unfathomable becomes unavoidable. The inconceivable becomes tractable; the hypothetical, real. The most insurmountable peak becomes a mere plateau on the path to greater heights. The boundary is extended. The cycle begins anew. The finish line becomes the starting line.

see you in 2014, Boston
Johnny Boy

Thoughts on Boston Marathon

ALL THAT IS NECESSARY FOR THE TRIUMPH OF EVIL IS THAT GOOD MEN DO NOTHING.  Edmund Burke 

I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and concern about Monday's race. My friends and I arrived home safely quite late Monday night - the lockdown on all cell service and the airport/trains etc was lifted around 9pm that day and we were able to sneak out.

Sensitive as I am to the horrors of what happened at approx.  4:09 into the marathon, I will be brief: but I wanted to let all who sent emails inquiring as to the events in Boston that it was a sad and tragic day. 

I finished the race some time before 2 bombs were detonated approximately 100 meters from the finish. 
As of now, they have confirmed 3 dead, including as we have last heard an 8 year old boy who was watching for his dad at the finish line. There are also over 170 injured and again the estimates are that 17 are critically injured. 
At the point the bombs exploded, I was approx 1 block from the 1st detonation and can say it was scary as hell, as well as extraordinarily loud (and so unexpected and out of context). 

I cannot begin to describe the shock and terror that we all experienced. To have been a part of this carnage and watched the drama unfold was both unnerving and truly frightening.

Most disconcerting was that Saturday I was with 2 close friends and we three spent 2 hours watching several "elite mile" races - standing at almost the exact spot the bombs hit at the "Marathon Sports" running store (right at the finish)(the site of the first bomb).

Then, to add more fear into the mix, I read  that there was a 3rd bomb found (undetonated) quite near where I was watching for friends to finish [at Copely Square, which is approx 200m behind the finish line, and 1 block from our hotel]. 

A terrorist attack at a marathon is not what any of us signed up for. 
I fear that this will once again tear away another layer of innocence, regardless of those responsible. 
But my friends and I are all safe and really, that is what matters most. How I did in the race seems so unimportant now.

To be honest, this was not how I ever imagined my first Boston Marathon to be. 

With that being said, I'm trying to focus on the positive as much as possible. That all of my friends are safe and sound fills me with an enormous amount of relief. My faith in the resiliency of the running community could not be any stronger, and I know we'll pull through this. Though I worry about how this will affect the sport that touches every aspect of my life, I'm confident that we'll endure and persevere. Heck, it's what we do.

I will go back - we can't let evil triumph.
Johnny Boy

You Cannot "Unwatch" These - ever

In the "spirit" of continuing to creep on vids I find on the 'net, I have no way of commenting on the one below; rarely am I speechless.
I was as I watched this - and am still laughing.

Enjoy this - or I will "pop a cap in your ass and shout "Hallelujah"


Then, of course, to round out the "Glee"ful nature of this posting (singing and dancing and rap - oh my!), ask yourself, when you are next out riding, can you "bust a move" like this [for that matter, who actually says "bust a move" anymore, except for old white guys reliving their frat days?]:
TDF Epic Dance Off
**warning: do not try this with cleats on, especially at the end of a long ride.

rap on, my brothers and sister
Johnny Boy

Dogs are from Mars, Cats are from Venus

While I understand that it will be hard to top the video I posted yesterday (see Blog posting below), this one here is pretty good.
In fact, as Larry David was wont to say, it is "pretty, pretty, pretty good".

Reflective of the inherent and yet important differences between dogs and cats, this video also stresses and reinforces some of the basic ideals I hope to impart here in this Blog: trust, caring, nurturing, team work, and most importantly, the lesson that sometimes - whether it is to head out the door for a 3 hour run when it is -25 with the windchill, or trudge into work on a Friday - we all need a kick or shove in the ass to get going.
So, here's to training partners who help us get "down those stairs" (however they do it!) and out the door - and just as importantly, our partners' at home who put up with us and all our training/racing/injuries and crap...


play nice
Johnny Boy

Perspective

So, I raced a Half on the weekend (well, better stated to say I "trained through a race", but that's a different blog) - and ya, my hip was pretty sore throughout the race.
And then I saw this; sorta puts my crappy little aches and pains into perspective.

People often throw around the term "hero" when talking about pro athletes, etc; in the age of Lance, Oscar, Tiger - whatever.
For me, well, these two little guys seem to fit the definition of what a "hero" is perfectly.
So, the next time you are out there training, racing, or even having a "bad" day at work, when you find you are feeling sorry for yourself, think of Connor and Cayden.

'nuff said
Johnny Boy