Meditate with Mucus

After days of laying on the couch with a fever, a trip to the doctor, and several doses of antibiotics, I finally awoke this morning feeling rested and normal.  A perfect time to meditate for a few and focus my mind on fully returning to the land of the living.  And so…

Breath in deeply, feeling the lungs expand.  Exhale gently, feeling the flow of air through the nose and hearing the gurgling and bubbling sounds emanating from the chest.  Breath again and don’t just hear the sounds, but feel the congestion resisting the flow of air.  Note the reluctance to exhale fully, in an attempt to avoid the unfamiliar and creepy sensations.

Focus on the sensations of breathing, but try not to react to them.  Note that the ribs are tender and sore from days of intense coughing.  Note that the teeth are clenched with the tongue in between.  Calmly place the tip of the tongue to the roof of the mouth and return the focus to the breathing.

Write about the experience on your blog.  Pause to think about what to write next and notice that gurgling is still there, despite having left a sizable amount of mucus in the bathroom.  Wonder how the tongue found its way back between clenched teeth.

Realize that meditation is not automatically calming.  It is the practice of observing but not reacting to sensory input and thoughts.  Calm is the absence of instinctive reaction.  Focusing on the breath usually leads to calm because the brain does not think “OMG, I’m breathing normally!”

But when you mediate with mucus, new and novel sensations result from the act of breathing.  The brain tries to determine if this is a threat.  A sudden urge to drink water arises.  Fluids are good for thinning mucus.  Adrenals are activated.  Why focus on breath at a time like this?  Getting water is the single most import thing in the world.

The urge must be resisted.  Give in, and the brain will create a dozen new urges.  Realize the urgency is a result of adrenal involvement.  Make a mental note to get some water later, and look for the adrenal off switch.  Sadly, it’s located in the room marked “focus on the breath”.

Off to a Slow Start

I suppose this is my first official run after finishing up PT for my knee, and the good news is my knee is still in pretty good shape afterwards.  However this run involved a lot of walking and won’t be setting any speed records, but that’s oaky.

My main purpose in running is to aid my mental health.  Considering this and the fact I’m coming off an injury and a cold, and hucking up a loogie every mile or so, no pace is too slow today.  14 minute miles?  No problem.

Although I don’t really “run” a 14-minute mile.  I run a sub-10 pace for a bit, then walk a 17-minute pace for a while.  Rinse, lather, repeat.  This is actually what my long and/or easy runs should be at this point.  Unless I’m having a fantastic day, my recovery pace is walking up a slight hill.

I’m suspicious the my injury is the result of me trying to run a steady 12-minute pace, instead of doing the run/walk thing.  Running slower than what feels natural just seems to be an invitation to poor form and injury.  So I’m planning to do my own ad/hoc run/walk plan.  Jeff Galloway might be proud.

As I’ve got no major races planned for 2014, I think I’ll take this opportunity to train by getting out on my feet and running or walking at whatever pace puts me at a good, easy training effort.  Perhaps I’ll be able to cover the entire midstate trail this way, or cover my commute from work to home in 5 mile segments.  There’s lots of opportunities to amuse myself why simply moving on my feet.

And finally, what seems to work for me right now is getting out for some quality time and distance no matter what the speed.  I’d rather walk 8 miles in two hours than run 6 miles in one hour, and I’ll probably feel fresher afterwards, have burnt more fat, and have less systemic inflammation.  It’s my experiment of one.  Stay tuned for the results.

How to Listen to your Body

I’m adding “listen to your body” to the list of marginally useful advice that gets doled out regularly, along with “don’t stress”, “think positively”, and so forth.  The problem with any advice that has been condensed down to five or fewer words is that it doesn't give any subtlety about what it actually means.

So let’s think about listening to our bodies.  I’m not sure about your body, but mine speaks a sort of foreign language that I’m not totally fluent in, and can sometimes be a bit reactionary and blow things out of proportion.  So even though I listen I don’t always get the message and that’s why my knee is in rehab now.

My advice is to not just listen to your body, but start a conversation with it.  Do some exercise, notice how you feel.  Intentionally do a little too much exercise, how does that feel?  Now do the same easy exercise routine 5 times and be a bit surprised that your body feels differently each time.

I highly recommend against intentionally injuring yourself, but sometimes the only way to know when you’re injuring yourself is to get an injury and remember what it felt like.  This is particularly true of overuse injuries, where it’s difficult to differentiate between your body saying “I’m tired” and “I’m hurt”.  Runners are used to interpreting pain as “I’m tired”, and 99% of the time we’re right.  The other 1% when we misread the message, then people look at us as if we are masochists and tell us to listen to our bodies.  Gee, thanks.

Try different exercises.  My current benchmark is the single leg press.  On my right leg I can put too much weight on the machine and my muscle simply isn't strong enough to lift it.  On my left leg, my knee starts to hurt before the muscle has reached its limit.  Ah-ha!  I've just found a way not only to expose my injury without making it worse, but I can also put a number of the state of my knee: how much weight I can lift without pain.  That number has been increasing, which is a good thing.

I can and have done short and slow runs recently without aggravating my knee.  However I now know not to push the pace because the knee will give out before the muscles complain.  When the limiting factor in the leg press is the muscle and not the knee , that’s when I’ll be ready for unrestricted running.

And this has truly been the benefit I've found in going through physical therapy.  It’s counseling for me and my body.  We’re getting back on speaking terms and fixing up our relationship.  I've learned how to politely ask how my knee is doing, and can get a useful response without it throwing a two week tantrum.

Knee Recovery and Mental Health

Good evening friends.  Tonight’s post is inspired by Anne’s Running Commentary, and her openness about her battle with depression.

Now I don’t want to go on and on about bad knees and feeling down and sound like a reject for a PBS documentary.  The big summer blockbuster features a hero caught in an epic struggle with impossible odds and frequent setbacks, and since Joss Whedon is directing you can’t even be sure it will have a happy ending.  Get your popcorn folks.

Our villain in this story is anxiety and depression.  He’s a coward who doesn’t make obvious frontal assaults.  Instead, he sneaks in the back door and uses his cognitive distortion ray to mess with the wiring, clouding our hero’s perceptions and making him doubt things he should be sure of.  Suddenly, easy tasks that normal people do without a care become problematic.

But first, imagine life without the villain.  Our hero is running down the Frisbee field on a warm spring day and makes a dramatic diving catch.  The kind that would make the sports highlights.  Unfortunately that last burst of speed caused a rather nasty popping sensation in his hamstring, and our hero limps off the field.  It’s a couple weeks before he can walk normally, and months before he’s back to playing Frisbee.  His brain associates “diving catch” with “severe pain, can’t run afterwards”.  The traumatic event has caused our hero to avoid making diving catches, thus preserving the health of his hamstrings.  This is all good.

Now imagine our hero has a chronic knee injury.  There was no dramatic moment when something popped.  It just gradually appeared over the course of a few weeks.  The hero visits the doctor, and the villain subtly adds some anxiety to the situation.  Our hero fidgets and worries about the outcome.  Waiting has become a traumatic experience.  When the doctor says to stop running for a while, the villain fires the cognitive distortion ray.

And here’s what happens:  The same pathways in the brain that remember traumatic events with bad outcomes now associate “doctor visit” with “stressful, can’t run afterwards”.  The exact same mechanism that worked so well to preserve hamstrings is now an obstacle to getting better.  Our hero, at an emotional level, really believes that going to the doctor was the reason he can’t run.  The mere mention of the word “doctor” is enough to reduce him to a dysfunctional wreck.

This is the part of the story with an unexpected twist:  I am not the hero described above.  Yes, we have had similar experiences, but I’ve gained a level of self-awareness and have some knowledge of how anxiety and depression work.

Cut back to the scene in the exam room, except now it’s me instead of the hero.  The effects of anxiety are starting to be felt.  I take a breath and calmly look around taking note of the surroundings.  Unfortunately those surroundings include a poster of the inner workings of a knee, with descriptions of everything that can go wrong.  Yikes!  Okay, maybe I’ll just sit here and meditate with my eyes closed.  By the time the doctor arrives with his verdict, I am almost asleep in the chair.

I also frequently remind myself that the home remedies weren't working.  To continue limping through runs and expect to suddenly get better one day is the very definition of insanity.  On the other hand, going to a doctor and then onto physical therapy gives structure to the recovery process, and also raises my level of commitment to recovery.

Doctor visits and physical therapy are now viewed as the path to recovery.  The story ends with an inspiring message of embracing one’s limitations and thus learning to transcend them.

Except it wasn't quite that rosy.  Somehow, this story didn't include the parts where I pestered my friends with messages such as “Sigh, I feel so sad today and have no idea why”.  If you were the lucky recipient of such a message, my apologies and thank you for your support.

To be continued…

Battle of the Wounded Knee

For those who haven’t heard me whine lately, my knee has been bothering me off and on for the last 6 months.  I rest it for a few days, go easy for a week or two, and it gets better.  Thinking it’s better, I start to use it like a healthy knee, and it’s back to step one.  Rinse, lather, repeat.

It’s finally reached the point where I called an orthopedist I had used years ago, and got no answer because he’s closed on Tuesdays.  I’m guessing actually getting an appointment might take several weeks, so in the interim it’s more self-diagnosis based on hearsay and internet research.

Until I get a professional opinion, I’m following my home-made recovery strategy:

1) Try not to be stupid and overdo anything.  Obvious, but many times it’s clear that I have a 20-something brain controlling a 40-something body.  It’s also complicated because the threshold of stupidity changes from day to day.

2) Rest and ice when possible.  I’m horrible at this, but at least I’ve discovered a good way to ice a knee.  There’s this high-tech ice pack that consists of biodegradable pellets in a plastic bag.  Because it’s filled with small pellets, it will automatically conform to the shape of the knee.  Just plop it on while sitting in front of the TV.  The problem is that the pack slowly shrinks with time, because somebody in the house keeps eating the pellets.  (it’s a bag of frozen peas, if you haven’t guessed).

3) Mentally prepare myself for a long recovery.  This means no major races and lots of slow running and hiking for 2014.  On the bright side, I may actually learn to do an easy run properly.  At the indoor track tonight I ran/walked slower than a 13-minute pace.  Considering my one and only marathon was a 12:40 pace, and my heart rate tonight averaged out to zone 2, my easy runs should be this god-awful slow.  On healthy legs I’d run much faster, and cover up my lack of aerobic capacity with my ability to run up an oxygen debt that would make the government blush.

Admitting I have a knee problem is the first step to recovery.

Whining About Runner's Knee

It’s official now:  my plans to run a fall marathon have been cancelled.  They fell victim to the heat and deer flies of July, followed by a bum knee in August.  I think this is my first genuine case of runner’s knee, and it’s very hard to let it get completely better.

It needs rest, and what it’s been getting has been the 100 on 100 relay, which involved running 17.5 miles spread over three legs in a single day.  It’s also had a lunchtime of ultimate Frisbee and a 5K.  These competitive occasions aren't conducive to going only as fast as the knee allows.

It’s not even that simple in reality.  Once the knee gets warmed up it allows quite a bit, but with a penalty to be paid at some future time.  As a result, I end up hobbling to the kitchen at work to get my coffee, then get a stabbing pain when I twist wrong getting milk out of the fridge, but am almost pain free when out on a five mile run later the same day.  Perhaps I should just give up coffee?  I've tried decaf but it doesn't seem to make a difference when opening the fridge.

Many times, the knee actually feels better after a run.  This is a relative thing, however.  It would be more accurate to say that other things hurt worse, so the body’s natural reaction is to raise the pain threshold, which makes the knee feel better.  The flip side is that complete rest tends to lower the pain threshold, so at least for me being sedentary means everything hurts for no particular reason.

And like many runners, I run for the stress relief and the social opportunities.  When a body part acts up, it interferes with my mental health and social life.  It ends up being a three way hit.  My knee hurts, I’m grumpy, and anybody who really can understand is outside running or playing Frisbee.

Enough whining.  Next post will be about the new running plan and goals.

Windshield Wiper Meditation

I’ve been dabbling in the practice of meditation, and found an interesting way to practice on my commute home.   Let me see if I can explain this.

It’s raining, and the wipers aren’t decidedly not slappin’ out a tempo to the tune of an Eddie Rabbit song.  (Does anybody even remember Eddie Rabbit?)  No, my wipers are doing an imitation of an asthmatic goose, chattering away with a honk-weep, honk-weep kind of sound.

One of the interesting aspects of Buddhism is that each one of us constructs our world from our thoughts and all the inputs we receive from our senses.  “All that you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be” in the words of Pink Floyd.

Another aspect of Buddhism is the notion that suffering is caused by wishing that things were different than they actually are.  In other words, I suffer only if I interpret honk-weep as a sound that is annoying and one I shouldn’t have to deal with.

And thusly I spent my commute learning to accept the honk-weep sound as part of my world, and noticed that despite the sound, they are doing a decent job of keeping the windshield clear.  Better yet, their noise and the cacophony of the heavy rain totally drowns out the buzzing noise that happens at about 2k RPM which I haven’t been able to track down yet.

Driving a 16 year old truck turns out to be surprisingly similar to running with a 40-something year old body.  You have to learn which noises signal something serious that needs attention, and learn to accept all the rest as part of the whole experience.  My ankle just cracked while writing this. No problem!