Shoegate

Today, July 30, marks Day 60 of the Shoegate Crisis. Exactly two months ago, I left my only pair of running shoes at a friend's house (approximately 176 miles away from my place in SLO, give or take). The shoes have been held hostage ever since.

So what? It's a pair of shoes, right? Nothing big. Nothing to fret over.

Turns out shoes happen to be a key component to a fitness regimen. For the last two months, I've worked out with two pairs of ASICS Cumulus VII's as an alternative option. They're nice shoes – or at least they were when I bought them two years ago. These shoes took me through my final season of college track. They've been through merciless workouts at Cal Poly, warm-ups at UCLAs Drake Stadium, jogs to the sand dunes at Montano del Oro, hill repeats on the "P" hill, 5-mile runs to campus, summer sprints at Petaluma High School and so on.

Really, I’m well past due to move my Cume’s out of the running rotation and into retirement. In fact, they likely want to give up the running gig and cut back to casual walks down the block each week while their son (call him Cumulus VIII) takes over the family business. However, the son is being kept against its will at an apartment in Van Nuys, Calif., leaving his parents bitter and frustrated.

They're just shoes, right? Tell that to my arches. Every semi-fast run in my antiquated Cumulus VIIs leads to a persistent pain in my arches. It's as if Paul Bunyan set up shop hacking away at my arch. The pain hasn’t reached critical mass yet, but I have had to cut a few workouts short. No bueno.

I know, you’re probably pinning the blame on my ineptitude for leaving such a prized possession in the clutches of an evil tyrant (aka my best friend Andrew). Fine, but 60 days? Andrew visited me in San Luis Obispo 10 days ago with no shoes in tote. The injustice!

As previously noted, we are 2.5 moons into the Shoegate Crisis. Please, write your local senator and ask him to support the FREE FRANK'S SHOES campaign.

Damn Tobata!

Who's Tobata? What's Tobata? Where's Tobata? When's Tobata? Why's Tobata? How's Tobata? Damn Tobata!

I came in significantly below my goal of 12 miles for the week, all because of a CrossFit workout known as Tobata. Named after an old Japanese fellow, Tobata is a fat burning workout that, as explained to me by the instructor, is as effective as 20 minutes of cardio. The theory is simple: 20 second intervals interrupted by 10 seconds of recovery. Sounds easy, right? Just 20 seconds of boom followed by 10 seconds of fizzle. Too easy.

Naturally, it wasn't that easy (or else this wouldn't be much of a story). The workout on Thursday was a Tobata format for 12 minutes. First came speed squats (no weight, squat with proper technique as fast as possible) followed by push press with a 45-pound bar and box jumps. I started off with something like 19 squats in 20 seconds then 20 and then 19 again before the pain began to build. I struggled to 18 in the fourth set (half done) and grunted out 16 on the final four. During the entire series I kept a watchful eye on Sarah, a black belt of CrossFit if there were such a thing, as she pounded through her reps. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have tried so hard and maybe I could have regained my ability to move at more than a waddle-like stroll by today. But, she was there and she absolutely killed the workout. Sadly, my brain is programmed, 1) Not to lose, and, 2) Not to lose to a girl.

As I mentioned in my previous CrossFit entry, this Sarah girl is a machine and has obviously worked incredibly hard to be as fit as she is. Hence, I don't really feel too bad that she pretty much trampled me and my unborn children en route to the end of the Tobata. After the 10-second layoff between squats and push press, I breezed through my first set for 13 reps. (Damn me and my stupid competitive persona!). Next came seven. Then came six. Then six again. And again. And then it took everything I had to put up six more. (Still two sets to go.) At this point, I was sucking wind, my hands were on my knees and it was noticeably tough to get the bar to my chest to begin the set. Who knew 45 pounds could weigh so much? I didn't even care about competing anymore. I simply wanted to finish the workout.

After the push press, I felt a familiar feeling building at the bottom of my stomach. During my sports career up until the 2006-07 track season, I had one workout-induced vomit experience. (That all changed during my last year of track when I seemed to let loose every other week...when I wasn't injured). Had I not been in piss-poor shape heading into this workout, I think I could have pushed myself enough to make good on that blossoming sensation in my stomach. However, I was so drained by the time we got to box jumps, I simply couldn't exert the energy necessary to for a dinner-losing moment. I managed five box jumps for the first seven 20-second bursts and six on the last. Then came the eye of the storm.

Hurricane-savvy readers would note that the eye of the storm is a temporary solace. I say the eye because the next morning was even worse than the workout itself. Every bit of my quadriceps moans and groans when I do anything leg related. Roll out of bed, my quads are in pain; get up from a sitting position, my quads are in pain; climb up stairs, you better believe my quads are in pain (going back down a flight of stairs is even worse, making this weekend rather inconvenient for my cousin to hold his wedding reception in a building without an elevator).

It was an incredible workout, but...damn Tobata!

In other news, this is my last night in Petaluma. Tomorrow it's back to SLO Town to continue my fitness campaign with Mr. Jason "I Might Like Food But I Don't" Cater. Here's the weekly recap:

Monday
1-mile run - 2 laps jog/2 laps run straights-jog turns

Tuesday
Summer All Comers Meet @ Montgomery High School, Santa Rosa, CA
400 meter - Time inconclusive
Total distance run during the day (including warm up): 1 mile
Comments: I was disappointed that the timers missed me crossing the finish line (which is the only explanation I can offer because they clocked first place at 58.9 seconds). I may be in bad shape, but I'm not running 58.9 seconds for a one-lap race. Especially after timing 55 seconds over one month ago. Nonetheless, I felt strong during the race.

Wednesday
Gym - 24Hour Fitness
1,000 meters of rows
5 mile bike ride
100 abs
Sonoma County CrossFit
500 meters of rows
3-3-3-3-3 push jerk
500 meters of rows

Thursday
Track Workout, Petaluma HS
2.5 miles
1 mile warm up jog
1 mile @ 5:58
2 map cool down
100 abs
Sonoma County CrossFit
Tobata - 20 sec on/10 sec off for 12 minutes
Squats
Push Press
Box Jumps
Comments: What did I do to deserve so much pain?

Friday
Softball!
Comments: My return to the softball field following the infamous black-eye incident. Went 2-for-4 with a pair of singles, booya! Luckily softball isn't a leg-intensive workout or I would have had to decline the offer to play.
500 abs

Saturday
OFF!

Sunday
700 abs

Sunday Recap

I recently returned home after a 3-hour jaunt through Tamalpais State Park with a buddy of mine, Mike King. The original game plan was to hike a trail that would take approximately 1 hour, 30 minutes. After accidentally crossing onto the Benstein Trail as opposed to hanging the appropriate right turn to stay on the Rock Spring Trail, we discovered an ominous truth: We were lost. It took us about 5-minutes to find our location on the map. We were about 1 mile away from the correct path and several miles from our original target destination. Rather than backtracking, we pressed further on down the trail, losing ourselves several more times in the process, and nearly didn't make it back to the car before the gates to the park closed. Had it not been for several possibly-stoned hippie types, we likely would have reached our new target destination, Alpine Lake, but wouldn't have made it back to the car before nightfall (leaving us stranded). Thank God for the hippies.

Here's my weekly rundown:

Monday
2 mile run
Comments: About halfway into the run, I realized my shirt was quite stinky. It was fresh out of the wash (allegedly), but the smell told a different story. Proliferating odor aside, I completed the run to my friend's house, a Mr. Robert Wheeler, without much fanfare.

Tuesday
2 mile run -- 1 mile @ 6 min pace / 3 min run, 2 min recovery, 2 min run, 1 min rec, 1 min run
Comments: I love this workout. Usually I do two sets and at a much quicker tempo, but, as is the theme of this blog, I'm out of shape. I was happy to cross the 1-mile mark with over 10 seconds to spare.

Wednesday
500 ab reps
Comments: My legs were a little torn up from three consecutive days of running (loosely defined). My quick-jogs were enough to sit me down today. I did manage to rack up 500 abs toward my weekly goal of 1,500.

Thursday
Warm up: 1.5 miles on treadmill (11:48)
Weight Room - Back/Biceps @ 24Hour Fitness
3x10 trunk lifts
3x10 rows
3x10 lat pull downs
1x20 back Xtensions
3x8 curls (each arm)
5-5-5 (5 half curls at each position and 5 full done continuously)

Afternoon - Track
Warm up: .5 miles on track, stretching, drills
2 miles @ 6 min/mile pace - Intervals, 1:30 lap, 1 min break, 1:30 lap, 1 min break
Comments: I was feeling these workouts at the end of the day. I scored a free seven day trial at 24Hour Fitness so I'm lifting there for the next few days. The track workout was satisfying. I wanted to quit after my third lap. I decided to take a 3-minute break after my fourth lap. Then, after pulling four sub-1:30 laps, I thought I would keep the same intervals until I couldn't hold pace. After a sub-1:30 fifth lap, I manned up and opted to stick to my original workout plan. It's so hard to challenge yourself when you're alone. If you have a workout partner, even if they're far better or worse, that person tends to push you to different limits than if you performed the same workout alone. Some people can train on their own, but I'm not one of those people. Being able to get through the workout without cheating was a huge boost for my confidence.

Friday
Warm up: 20 min stationary bike
Weight room - Chest/Triceps
3x10 dumbbell bench press (50 pounds)
2x10 dumbbell incline bench press (40 pounds)
3x10 chest squeeze (machine)
3x10 chest press (machine)
3x10 tricep Xtensions
Cool down: 5 min elyptical
Comments: I wanted to jump onto the treadmill, but my legs were simply too sore. My lifting was sub-par, so I added a set on the chest press machine. I haven't kept a steady routine while at home.

Saturday
Off
Comments: Family trip to Sacramento.

Sunday
Approximately an 11-13 mile hike through the Tamalpais State Park (originally mapped route would have been 4 miles).
Comments: We're dumb.

Goals From Previous Week
10 miles of running - Achieved (including cardio from the stationary bike, which I totaled to about 2.5 miles worth of running)
1,500 abs - Not even close. I'm sitting on 500 with the rest of the evening to knock out 1,000. Not gonna happen.

Goals for Next Week
53 second 400 @ all-comers meet, Tuesay
12 miles of running
1,500 abs

CrossFit

"Ole-ole-ole-ole." My cellphone ring tone. (Have I mentioned that I'm an avid soccer/football/futbol/calcio (Italian) fan?)

So I reached for my cellular and, much to my surprise, the caller identification read "Danny Schmieding." One, I didn't know I had Danny's number. Two, why was he calling me?

Danny and I were best friends back in the McDowell Elementary days. It was a love-hate relationship. Don't get me wrong, we weren't abut to throw down. At worst, I might have told him, "You can't come to my birthday party," and he might have said, "You can't watch Wrestlemania at my place." We didn't have more than a few tiffs in our years as neighborhood buddies, but we always had a friendly athletic rivalry. We were always out to one-up each other.

In those days, we were nearly identical in athletic ability. Our basketball team was a dynasty, our baseball team was one of the best in the league and we set a meet record at the West Side Relays in the sprint medley. Basically, we were used to winning. However, we were both so competitive that we would get frustrated when one outperformed the other. The rivalry became more intense when we both settled on track and field, a largely individual sport, as our primary interest.

When we entered high school, Danny and I parted ways. He hung out on the lawn by the front office while I assimilated into a clique of freshmen jock-types in the quad by the library. The distance put a serious strain on our close bond. Actually, Danny was simply more developed socially. He had friends at the school who were older while I struggled to find an identity. I tried kicking it with Danny and his group, but I never felt like I fit in, and so our best-friendship ended. Even though we hung out on occasion in high school, it was never the same.

On the track, Danny and I found ourselves competing for a spot on the varsity 4x100 relay team. I remember being incredibly jealous that he made the squad as a junior while I had an absolutely terrible season. It wasn't Danny's fault -- he was running faster than me, period. Still, I held it against him a bit. The next year, I was the more successful runner. Danny couldn't replicate his previous season's success and, although we both made the relay team, I could sense a mounting frustration from him throughout the year.

After high school, Danny and I parted ways more permanently. I saw him around town on occasion, but we haven't hung out since our high school days.

Here I was, on my way to an Oakland A's game with my dad, and here comes this random phone call. Danny and I exchanged the mandatory pleasantries, then he got down to business. (That sounds less friendly than his proposal actually was). Turned out, Danny was pioneering the development of a new workout philosophy in Sonoma County called CrossFit and he wanted me to drop by the gym to give it a try. I jumped at the chance to spend some time with an old friend and, at the same time, experience something new.

After doing a little research, I found that CrossFit is a program that originated in Santa Cruz, Calif. It incorporates a workout-specific warm up with a timed set of exercises. The CrossFit website describes the regimen as "broad, general and inclusive." Whether you're 80-years-old, recovering from injury or perfectly fit, CrossFit's primary principal is scalability -- in other words, they use the same program for everybody, but scale the amount of resistance depending on the person's fitness level.

Tonight was my first workout with Danny and his crew. My first reaction was, "Wow, this is just like the Spd Factory." Danny set me straight. While the Spd Factory uses several CrossFit principals, their workouts are more sport-specific. Honestly, I didn't see too many differences except in the warm-up. At the Spd Factory the warm-up was mostly agility oriented while CrossFit was more tailored to the actual workout.

At first glance, the workout seemed fairly simple. There were three exercises: front squats, dumbbell push ups and sit ups. The first set was 21 reps of each exercise then a round of 15 reps and then nine reps. The workout intensity increases big time, however, because everything is full-go. You're working against the clock. As soon as you begin the workout, you find yourself driven to compete against everyone around you. As I completed my first task, 21 front squats, I looked around and noted how far I was ahead (or behind) the others. Forty-five reps of three different exercises -- cake, right? As soon as the competitive juices get going, that workout suddenly becomes much more difficult.

I completed the workout in 9 minutes, 20 seconds. Once again, my weakness was sit ups. And, for a second straight week, I watched a woman beat me up in a timed workout. She did more weight than me on the front squats and pounded out those sit ups. I could sit here and tell you that I've only been working out for about 45 days and that I ran 2 miles earlier in the day at a quick pace, but I honestly don't feel the need to toss out any excuses. That girl was impressive. She is flat out in better shape than me and gender has nothing to do with it. The 20-something-year-old even had the energy afterwards to further dazzle me with a series of deadlifts, several using just one hand. If only she could run -- she would kick the crap out of almost all the Cal Poly girls in the weight room, every sport included.

Thanks to Danny I've experienced a new method of working out, one that is quick (we were done in under 45 minutes), do-able and self-motivating (every time out you're competing against the clock and your peers). I'm already looking forward to my next CrossFit experience.

Sunday Recap

I've decided to start posting a weekly recap of my workouts each Sunday. Here's the rundown (with some added commentary):

Monday
Weightlifting workout @ Lakeridge Fitness, Petaluma, CA
Chest, Shoulders, Triceps
10 min warm up on treadmill
3x10 dumbbell bench press (45 lbs, 50 lbs, 55 lbs)
3x10 chest squeeze (machine)
3x10 tricep extensions / flatback on bench using 40 lb db
Military Press burnout using 45 lb. bar(25 reps)
Comments: Usually there's more to this workout, but I was limited to 45 minutes of workout time (the length of my dad's, aka my ride, aka my way into the gym, treadmill routine). I also happened to spend time chatting with an old friend for about 5 minutes. Still, I was happy to get into the gym for a second straight day (I worked back and biceps on Sunday).

Tuesday
Off
Comments: Softball to the nose = black eye, hefty blood loss, mild concussion and lack of motivation to go on the planned 2 mile evening run.

Wednesday
Redwood Empire Summer Track Series, Montgomery High School, Santa Rosa, CA
40 min warm up - 4 laps walk/jog, drills, extended dialogue with several old running buddies
100 meter - Time yet to be determined
4x400 relay - second leg, guestimated split of 55-56
Comments: One, I'm still struggling to find a proper warm up routine. Check that, I have the right routine, I just need to plan accordingly. Just as at the Atascadero meet, my legs felt thoroughly unprepared for a race when the gun went off for the 100 meter. Despite my pedestrian pace in the 4x400 relay, I actually felt strong. I certainly could have run faster. After the race ended I recovered quickly, didn't feel like vomiting and maintained use of all bodily functions. Great success. I was very disappointed in my performance during the 100, however. After getting bumped by a 40-year-old wannabe sprinter in the "Main Event" heat, I went head-to-head with a familiar face in the "Real Event." I knew, despite very little training, that I would blast past everybody at the meet with the exception of Dmitry, a 30-something former collegiate runner at UC Davis. I convinced Dmitry to run with me in the last heat (otherwise I would have run alone) knowing that he would challenge me. Still, I didn't expect him to beat me. Before the race I told my buddy, Mike Wortman (a former junior college teammate) that I expected a strong first 50 meters followed by a gradual decline. I always break quick out of the blocks, and Wednesday was no exception. I built a lead over the first half of the race, then realized I hadn't put enough separation between us. One of the worst feelings as a runner is leading a race that you know you're about to lose. I felt him moving up behind me, but I couldn't do anything about it. As he pulled alongside me with about 20 meters to go, I put together a last ditch effort and drew even for the next few strides. Dmitry put the finishing touches on me with about 5 meters to go, winning by no more than a foot. In my head, I knew it wasn't that close. I knew I couldn't have won.

Thursday
Spd Factory, Petaluma, CA
SPARQ Training
1 hour workout that included a number of explosive, speed oriented drills. I can't remember the entire workout. Included several drills on a ladder, 3 sets of 10 split-legged jump squats, 3 sets of 15 ball slams (16 lb. med ball), 3 sets of 5-yd. slides/10 sec and several other plyometric drills. The "Workout of the Day," a set of exercises done for time, was three cycles of 500m rows on a sliding seat, 15 dumbbell bench presses on a physio ball (also referred to as an ab ball) and 50 sit-ups using an ab mat (an apparatus that slides under the lower back). Completed this sequence in 16 minutes and change.
Comments: Back in the day, I would have nailed that workout and mopped up everyone during the "Workout of the Day." However, this turned out to be yet another sobering reminder of how far away I am from the glory days. I flat out sucked at everything except the 5-yd. slide drill. I nearly tied the top mark of the day of eight cone touches (established by a Div. I-AA football player, Joe Trombetta). I was just a couple feet away each of the three times I tried. The rest of the workout consisted of me trying not to look like an idiot as the high schoolers, prepubescents and soccer mom in attendance kicked my butt at every drill. I was the 10th fastest finisher for the "Workout of the Day." There were 11 of us. And I utilized a furious finish on the rowing machine to pass my 13-year-old counterpart to avoid last place. (I know the other youngish kid cheated during the ab portion of the workout -- no way that butterball outdid me! And the older guy, I don't even know if he finished. So really I was eighth. Sadly, the soccer mom really did beat me. She was on soccer-mom steroids.)

Friday
Off
Comments: Too sore to even contemplate a workout.

Saturday
Off
Comments: Ego still damaged from getting waxed by a soccer mom. (An incredibly fit one at that).

Sunday
1.5 mile easy run
100 push ups in 5:54
150 ab reps
Comments: The legs are still woozy from Thursday. Still, I managed an easy run to work the cardio a bit. I felt much stronger than in previous runs. The push ups were a huge improvement from when I first began this back to fitness effort. Still, I want that time to drop under 3 minutes. My ab routine for the week was pathetic -- 300 total reps? Wow, lazy ass.

Workout Goals for Upcoming Week: 1,500 reps of abs (I've been slacking and need to get back on top of my core conditioning), 10 miles of running, weight room 3-4 days

Apparently My Baseball Skills Have Left Me

It seemed like a fairly routine groundball. The guy hit a solid shot straight at me. I was playing a fairly deep shortstop, but calmly put my mitt on the ground and waited for the ball to find its way to my glove. Instead, the ball ricocheted off the lip of the infield and made a beeline for my face.

After a momentary pause (did that really just happen?!?), I reached for my nose. As expected, I was gushing a familiar red liquid. At first, I tried to wipe away the blood using my hands. That technique was about as useful as Amy Winehouse's latest stint in rehab. I knew it wouldn't help but I had to do something. It turned out this was the perfect day for me to wear by highly absorbent, white Nike athletic shirt. I actually tried as hard as I could not to bleed on my favorite workout shirt, but was largely unsuccessful.

Despite my predicament, I kept my dignity. There were no whimpers, tears or profane verbiages. I maintained a smile, laughed a little, cracked a few jokes. A guy watching our ragtag game of softball from near the basketball courts alongside the field had this concerned yet intrigued look on his face. It looked as if he wanted to ask the obvious, “Are you OK, man?” but his eyes were too preoccupied with my bloodied face to say the words.

I drew even more stares from a pair of teenagers sitting on a park bench under an overhang. One of the guys saw me heading their way and (indiscreetly) alerted his friend that a hideously decorated face was approaching. Then there were the middle-aged Latinos whose jaws dropped as I continued my walk to the bathroom. (Isn't staring rude or something?) Another group of parents (this happened to be a rather busy park) did the double-take, glancing my way, then back to their conversation and quickly back to me. That 50-yard walk made me think I was going to see a crooked nose, black eye and a new hole in my head.

When I arrived in the men’s room, I found neither a mirror nor any paper towels. A little woozy and my vision starting to blur a bit, I didn’t even think to check the stall for toilet paper. Instead, I wandered into the women’s room next door, politely asked if anybody was inside (as if it mattered at that point) and pulled a few yards worth of towels from the dispenser.

My machismo quickly faded during the drive home (yes, I was smart enough to drive myself home). I suddenly didn't feel so great. A bit dizzy, I walked through our front door and explained to the family what happened. For all my grief, all I got out of my dad was an, "Ah, doesn't look so bad, you'll be fine." I'm used to my dad's expert medical analyses from years of alleged minor injuries (like my ruptured eardrum, torn ligament and fractured wrist -- just walk it off, everything will be fine). Eventually, I just stopped telling him about my injuries. I thought the symptoms of a mild concussion might spark some interest, but apparently I was wrong. My mom, on the other hand, has this tendency to overreact. She seemed genuinely worried about my black eye and blood-stained apparel, but I'm not about to head to the emergency room.

By the way, in case you haven't figured it out, I’m home for the next few weeks (as in the place where I grew up, aka the folks’ humble abode).

Before the game, I figured I would play for an hour or so, be back in time for dinner and then head to the track for an easy mile, stretching and drills. Now I’m writing to you with a wicked headache, a black eye and badly-bruised nose. The positive spin: My room isn't turning anymore and the bleeding has stopped.

Mild concussion aside, who’s ready for a track meet tomorrow? I know I can’t wait.

Until today, I’ve maintained a steady workout schedule. To be honest, my head is still throbbing so I’m cutting this entry short. There will be more to come on my training regimen after tomorrow's meet. I couldn’t skip out on this Frank Moment. Time to grab another bag of ice and up the Ibupofen dosage. Sure is great to be home.