madcity girl

Over the last few years, compression socks have gained immense popularity among runners and triathletes. It took me a while to decipher the phenomenon. When I first saw several athletes sporting knee-high socks at Ironman Wisconsin two years ago, I thought it was just a strange and unfortunate fashion statement. Eventually, I learned that many runners and triathletes use compression socks to help speed recovery after strenuous workouts and also to optimize performance during races.

Obviously those are grandiose claims. And for a while, I was skeptical. You mean to tell me that you can just slip on a pair of knee-high, Brittany Spears-esque socks and suddenly you’re Chrissie Wellington? I think not. Yet there are many studies that suggest real and notable gains can be realized by wearing compression socks.  

So how do they work? According to CEP, a leading producer of compression socks, the goal of wearing the socks is to enhance blood circulation, which delivers more oxygen to the heart and improves the process of metabolizing lactic acid. Another article explains that compression socks use strong elastics to create significant pressure on the legs, ankles and feet. By compressing the surface veins, arteries, and muscles, the circulating blood is forced through narrower channels. The arterial pressure is increased, causing more blood to return to the heart and less blood to pool in the feet.

So far only a handful of studies have been conducted to test these claims. Results have been largely inconclusive; but on the whole, encouraging:

• According to a study conducted at Stellenbosch University,  athletes who wore compression socks after exercise showed a faster lactate recovery rate. The same study, however, showed no statistically significant improvements (oxygen consumption, heart rate, etc.)  for athletes who wore the socks during exercise.
• Another study at the University of Dresden showed that compression can increase arterial blood flow up to 40% during activity and 30% during recovery. As a result, athletes benefit from more oxygen and nutrients, gaining power, recovering more quickly, and improving performance.
• According to a study at the University of Erlangen-Nuremberg, runners using compression socks had 5% faster running times while using 6% less energy.

All of that medical/science mumbo jumbo seems to suggest to me that compression socks are at least worth a shot. When I raced at the Ironman World Championships this past October, many elite athletes wore compression socks during the race. I almost felt a little naked without them. The knee-high socks have always looked funny to me; but admittedly, the style has grown on me over time. As some of you know, I recently took on a new part-time job at a local triathlon shop (more on this later). This, of course, has sparked a new-found interest in trying and testing the latest rage in triathlon and running gear. Last week, I caved and purchased my first pair of compression socks. I tried them on after a long run last Sunday. They felt nice—the pressure seemed to soothe my weary legs. Even if the benefits are entirely psychological, I’ll take it.

Now let’s address the obvious question. You may be scratching your head at my color seelction. Certainly I’ve made it pretty clear in prior posts that I hate the color pink. Especially when it comes to athletic gear. But what can I say—there was something about this particular pair of compression socks that drew me in. They seemed different. special. They are not just pink (oh, no)—they are obnoxiously pink. And obnoxious pink I can do.

I had another fantastic weekend enjoying the great outdoors and warm comforts of winter. I kicked off the weekend by meeting my friends Paul and Meghan at the Nordic Trail, located in the heart of the Southern Unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest (just east of of Whitewater). The Nordic Trail  features more than 23 miles of groomed x-country ski trails with six different trails of varying distance and difficulty. It’s actually where I went skate skiing for the very first time last winter with my friend Paul. As you may remember, I instantly fell in love with the sport, and purchased my own pair of skis a few weeks later.

Many people still ask me, what exactly is skate skiing? Perhaps you caught a glimpse during the recent Olympic coverage; otherwise, check out this YouTube video. What I love most about skate skiing is the technique, rhythm, speed, and the burn I feel in my legs. I love climbing up and cruising down the big hills, and also gliding along the flats. Then of course there’s the beauty of being completely emerged in the middle of a snowy forest. And breathing in fresh, cool air. In my opinion, not only is skate skiing the best full-body workout there is, but also the best way to spend a winter morning.  

My friends Paul and Meghan are very talented skate skiers. Me? Not so much. Honestly, I’ve taught myself most of what I’ve learned by studying whatever is available about skate skiing on the Internet. I think my form is pretty decent, but I still have a long way to go with speed and endurance. On Saturday, I was just hopeful I could hang with Paul and Meghan for a little while—and not fall on my butt and embarrass myself too much. I knew they would push me, which is exactly what I needed. And more than anything, I was really looking forward to the company—there aren’t too many people I know in Madison who skate ski.

Luckily, Paul and Meghan skied the blue trail (9.9 miles) before I even arrived. Better to have them a little tired and winded! I met them in the warming hut shortly after 9am. Together we ventured out and skied the green, white, and orange trails (about ten miles total—my longest skate skiing adventure to date). The trails had a fresh coat of powder, which made for slower conditions. And because it was Birkie Weekend, there was very little traffic on the trails. It was challenging for me to keep up with Paul and Meghan, but I think I did pretty well. It made my day when Meghan (who has been skiing her entire life) told me that I looked like I’ve been skiing much longer than a year.

After adequately wearing ourselves out on the trails, Paul, Meghan, and I headed to the La Grange General Store, which is a great little cafe and ski/bike shop located just a few minutes from the trail head. I love the cozy and eclectic feel of the store. And the food and beer selection can’t be beat. I could hang out there all day. We ordered lunch (soup, sandwiches, and beer) and relaxed and caught up on life. We also talked about the possibility of signing up for the Birkie in 2011.

All in all, it was the perfect morning. The truth is, I don’t want the snow to melt. Not yet. I’m not ready to put away my skis and bulky sweaters for the season. Quite honestly, I’m liking this winter stuff more and more every year.

As much I enjoy the meditative feeling of running alone, there’s really nothing better than sharing a great run with friends. In previous posts, I talked about how I had begun to connect with fellow Dailymilers who live in and around Madison. It’s amazing how online connections through a shared love for running have blossomed into new running buddies and close friendships among a diverse cast of local athletes.

It’s all really opened my eyes to the power of social networking. As one dailymiler recently put it—people are no longer connecting with others solely because of proximity, appearances, or other surface-level similarities. Online communities have enabled us to reach out to people from all over the world who share our interests and passions. I have to admit, for a long time I was skeptical. It just seemed weird and creepy to meet people over the internet. But with my brother’s encouragement, I finally took the plunge. And I’m glad I did. I’ve realized, there’s not much to loose, and so much to gain. I probably never would have met my new running friends, if I hadn’t opened myself to those connections.

In recent weeks, a Saturday or Sunday morning “lake loop” has become a staple of our Madison dailymile meet ups. Nearly every Madison runner who has ever trained for a long-distance event is intimately familiar with the lake loop—a 13-mile loop around Lake Monona. It’s one of my favorite running routes in Madison. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about running around a massive body of water—coming full circle. It’s also motivating to know that once you commit to the full loop, there’s only one way back (other than to swim, I suppose). I also love the varied terrain, beautiful lake views, frequent water fountains (during the summer months), and the distance (I often commend myself after completing the full loop—damn, you just finished a half-marathon).

I love my new running group. The two hours we spend together make up a part of the weekend I look forward to most. As I come around the final stretch of the loop, I always feel this great sense of accomplishment and contentment. Like I’m truly doing what I’m supposed to be doing with the people I’m meant to be doing it with.

If nothing else, it’s clear that running and social networks share one thing: the power to unite.

My brother Kelly recently asked if I would pace him during the last 50 miles of the Western States 100 Endurance Run, the oldest and largest 100-mile trail run in the country, on June 26-27. So what exactly does that mean—to pace a runner during an ultra-marathon? The best description is one I found from author Chris McDougall in the book Born to Run:

Pacing is so grueling and thankless, usually only family, fools, and damn good friends let themselves get talked into it. The job means shivering in the middle of nowhere for hours until your runner shows up, then setting off at sunset for an all-night run through wind-whistling mountains. You’ll get blood on your shins, vomit on your shoes, and not even a T-shirt for completing two marathons in a single night. Other job requirements can include staying awake while your runner catches a nap in the mud; popping a blood blister between [his] blood cheeks with your fingernails; and surrendering your jacket, even though your teeth are chattering, because [his] lips have gone blue.”

Despite all of this, I enthusiastically replied, count me in! It would be an honor to accompany you through Squaw Valley. (Although I most certainly will not be popping any of my brother’s blisters. Especially between his butt cheeks. That I can assure you.)

I’ve been secretly toying with the idea of running an ultra-marathon for a few years now. My brother ran his first 100-mile ultra-marathon during his senior year in college—that was five years ago and he hasn’t stopped since. I’ve detailed a few of his races here and here. It’s extraordinarily inspiring. And the way he’s described his experiences, it just seems to me like the purest form of running that exists. And certainly my recent reading of Born to Run helped intensify my interest. So earlier this year I decided. This is the year I will run my first ultra-marathon.

And quite honestly, I’m ready for the next adventure. I’ve completed six Ironman triathlons and am signed up for my seventh this September. I’ve run the Boston Marathon. I still love competing in marathons and triathlons, and continue to find them all very challenging, but part of me is ready for a new experience—and one that is less commercialized and more of a real adventure in the pristine back country—running on trails, through streams, and up mountains. I just can’t think of an experience more raw and real than that.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do it. It’s all very scary—the terrain, keeping up with my brother, the risk of altitude sickness, the things we might encounter in the middle of the night, etc. But I’m excited to try. It should be one hell of an adventure. And I can’t wait to share the experience with my brother.

Earlier this month, I finished reading “Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen,” by Christopher McDougall. Armed with a highlighter and a pen, I tore through the book in just a few days. I marked any and all passages that struck a chord with me—be it because the words were informative, inspiring, humorous, or simply well said. This amounted to a text that is now fairly well underlined and highlighted. For now I’ll leave you with my favorites…

There’s something so universal about that sensation, the way running unites our two most primal impulses: fear and pleasure. We run when we’re scared, we run when we’re ecstatic, we run away from our problems and run around for a good time. p. 11

In terms of stress relief and sensual pleasure, running is what you have in your life before you have sex. The equipment and desire come factory installed; all you have to do is let ‘er rip and hang on for the ride. p. 12

If you really want to understand the Raramuri, you should have been there when this ninety-five-year-old man came hiking twenty-five miles over the mountain. Know why he could do it? Because no one every told him he couldn’t. No one ever told him he oughta be off dying somewhere in an old age home. You live up to your own expectations, man. -Micah True, p. 50

If some California hippie could go one hundred miles, how hard could it be? Besides, a normal race wouldn’t cut it; if Leadville was going to survive, it needed an event with serious holy-shit power. p. 59

Your body becomes so familiar with the cradle-rocking rhythm that you almost forget you’re moving. [Eventually,] you break through to that soft, half-levitating flow. You have to listen closely to the sound of your own breathing; be aware of how much sweat is beading on your back; make sure to treat yourself to cool water and a salty snack and ask yourself honestly and often, exactly how you feel. What could be more sensual than paying exquisite attention to your own body? -Ann Trason, p.69

Ultrarunning seemed to be an alternative universe where none of planet Earth’s rules applied: women were stronger than men; old men were stronger than youngsters; Stone Age guys in sandals were stronger than everybody. p. 79

Ultrarunners had no reason to cheat, because they had nothing to gain: no fame, no wealth, no medals. No one knew who they were, or cared who won their strange rambles through the woods. They didn’t even get prize money; all you get for winning an ultra is the same belt buckle as the guy who comes in last. p. 85

That was the real secret of the Tarahumara: they’d never forgotten what it felt like to love running. They remembered that running was mankind’s first fine art, our original act of inspired creation. Way before we were scratching pictures on caves or beating rhythms on hollow trees, we were perfecting the art of combining our breath and mind and muscles into fluid self-propulsion over wild terrain. p. 92

It wasn’t just the racing they loved; it was the thrill of exploring the brave new world of their own bodies. p. 112

When I’m out on a long run, the only thing that matters is finishing the run. For once, my brain isn’t going blehblehbleh all the time. Everything quiets down, and the only thing going on is pure flow. It’s just me and the movement and the motion. That’s what I love—just being a barbarian, running through woods -Jenn Shelton, p. 149

You don’t stop running because you get old. You get old because you stop running. -Jack Kirk, p. 202

Name any other athletic endeavor where sixty-four-year-olds are competing with nineteen-year-olds. Swimming? Boxing? Not even close. There’s something really weird about us humans; we’re not only really good at endurance running; we’re really good at it for a remarkably long time. -Dr. Dennis Bramble, p. 240

Just move your legs. Because if you don’t think you were born to run, you’re not only denying history. You’re denying who you are. -Dr. Dennis Bramble, p. 244

The worst thing you can give a runner midrace is false hope. What causes you to tense up is the unexpected; but as long as you know what you’re in for, you can relax and chip away at the job. p. 267

I’d get up at four-thirty in the morning, run twenty miles, and it would be a beautiful thing. Then I’d work all day and want to feel that way again. So I’d go home, drink a beer, eat some beans, and run some more. -Micah True, p. 279

I don’t want anyone to do anything except come run, party, dance, eat, and hang with us. Running isn’t about making people buy stuff. Running should be free, man. -Micah True, p. 287

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been working to put together my race plans for 2010. I have a trusty spreadsheet that I use every year to help organize myself. I insert the name of  each race, type of race, date of race, date by which I need to register (before any kind of fee bump), registration fee, and Web site. That way I don’t miss any important deadlines. 

But more importantly, the spreadsheet helps to me to keep my budget in line. Because it’s always frightening when I “AutoSum” the registration fee column. As much as I try to space out my registrations, that bottom line figure is always tough to swallow. Last year’s registrations totaled well over $1000 (and that’s not counting all of the other many expenses associated with racing—e.g., trip to Kona, equipment and gear, bike maintenance, nutrition, etc.). The spreadsheets also helps me determine how current entry fees compare to previous years. For example, this year’s Door County half-ironman early registration fee increased by a staggering $30. In one year. In comparison, this year’s Dairyland Dare increased by a mere dollar. Quite obviously I am a huge Exel nerd. I like to analyze these kind of things.

So anyways, following is my plan for 2010. Although I’ll elaborate on my goals a bit more in future posts, I’ll tell you now that one of my biggest goals this year is to run my first ultramaraton (either a 50k, or preferably, a 50-mile race) and follow in my brother’s footsteps, so to speak. I haven’t quite settled on a race, though. I’m considering the Door County Fall 50 in October, but I’d also love to run something with my brother. So that’s the only race that is TBD. The others on the list are pretty much finalized. But I’d also like to add a few more running races to the mix—maybe another full and half marathon. We’ll see.

Mar. 6: Point Bock Run (5-mile)
May 30: Madison Marathon (marathon)
Jun. 13: Capitol View Triathlon (olympic triathlon)
Jul. 18: Door County Triathlon (half-ironman triathlon)
Aug. 1: Ripon Medical Center Triathlon (long-course triathlon)
Aug. 14: Dairyland Dare (200k cycling)
Sep. 12: Ironman Wisconsin (ironman triathlon)
Oct. 23: Door County Fall 50 (ultra-marathon)

Thank you Dailymile! from Run Talk Radio on Vimeo.

Last night I finally brought home a new pair of running shoes. They are an updated model of the the Brooks Adrenaline GTS—the same shoe I’ve been using for years. The Adrenaline GTS 10 is a stability shoe “reborn” with better mid-foot fit, a new beveled heel for smoother landings, and deeper flex grooves that will supposedly conform to my foot’s every move.

The purchase was long overdue. So overdue, in fact, that today I confirmed my worst fears—I had run over 550 miles in my last pair. Not good. I mean, I knew they were coming to an end, but I didn’t realize they were already dead. And so I kept putting off the inevitable purchase until finally my calf started bothering me while I was out on a run about two weeks ago. And that was the final wake up call. So without further delay, I went to pick up a new pair of shoes last week, only to find that the store had sold out of my size. So I waited another week. The calf pain persisted. Finally, I was able to pick up my shoes last night. I tore open the box excitedly, very eager to meet my new friend.

And then with sudden horror, I realized my new shoes were pink. And purple. With flowers.

We cannot be friends, I quietly scolded.

You need me, my shoe defiantly replied.

The reality was that my shoe was right. I was desperate. I needed new shoes right away, regardless of color.

So this will be a first for me. Running in shoes that are pink. And purple. With flowers. I’m sure they will work just fine—but seriously. It will be painful. Painful to my pride. Which, I grudgingly admit, is more tolerable than the pain in my calf.

Although I didn’t exactly produce the race results I was hoping for in 2009, I think it was still a sucessful year. In terms of training, I put in 4,173 miles over the course of 352 workouts (1,250 miles running, 2,800 biking, and 27 swimming)—not bad, considering I didn’t get in the pool or on my bike until May. August was my highest volume month, with 153 miles of running and 712 miles on the bike.

On the race circuit, the pinnacle of my season was competing in the Ironman World Championships. It was a dream come true for me just to have qualified (out of IM WI 2008). Although I was disappointed with my race results (about 45 minutes off goal time), I soaked up the whole incredible experience and reassured myself that not all Ironman efforts can be PR’s, and most importantly, that I’d be back again to race in Kona someday.

The rest of my race season went pretty much as expected. My early season efforts were relatively easy, and I finally began training seriously in June. I was proud of my 3:35 Madison marathon (my third best marathon time), defending my title at the Ripon Medican Triathlon (although there were only a handful of female competitors, it still feels mighty good to win a race), and my solid effort at the Tyranena half-marathon—which was possibly a PR for me in the half.

Following are my race results from 2009. What’s in store for 2010? Stay tuned.

Mardi Gras Half-Marathon (2/1/09)
1:53:20 (60/396 age group)

Austin Half-Marathon (2/15/09)
1:43:28 (33/? age group)

Memphis in May Triathlon (5/17/09)
2:28:12 (13/65 age group)

Madison Marathon (5/24/09)
3:35:02 (8/114 age group)
Race report

July Aquathon (7/16/09)
35:59 (2nd female overall)
Race report

Door County Half-Ironman Triathlon (7/19/09)
5:14:23 (3/38 age group)
Race report

Ripon Medical Center Triathlon (8/2/09)
2:29 (1st female overall)
Race report

Dairyland Dare 200k Ride (8/15/09)
DNF (after 105 miles)
Race report

August Aquathon (8/20/09)
37:52 (3rd female overall)
Race report

Ironman World Championships
11:44:04 (31/54 age group)
Race report: Part I (Pre-Race)
Race report: Part II (Swim)
Race report: Part III (Bike)
Race report: Part IV (Run)

Tyranena Half-Marathon
1:39:58 (9th female overall, 3/131 age group)
Race report

Are words even necessary?