I've been tinkering with all aspects of my stride for three years now, and if I were to pick the single most critical aspect of my stride, the part that both consumed the most time to develop and yielded the best results, it would be my arm swing.
I am convinced that arm swing is one of the most complex stride components to work on. The length of the arm bones matters (both in an absolute sense, and relative to the leg and torso lengths). The amount of arm muscle matters, as does the weight distribution between the upper and lower torso. The arm swing that works best for one runner may not work at all for another runner, even if their body builds were nearly identical.
I have several very different arm swings I use, depending on the terrain (flat, uphill and downhill), the shoes I'm wearing (shoe weight has a great effect on the stride), and my fatigue level (my best speed under the conditions).
It took me about 6 months of experimentation to not only try many arm swing variations (range, symmetry, rate, forcefulness, elbow angle, etc.), but also to keep working with the 'best' ones until they became 'natural' to me. I found it essential to record all my test runs on my Garmin Forerunner 305 so I could later compare apples-to-apples, independent of what or how I felt (except for joint discomfort). Every new arm swing variation always felt worse, or at least strange, at the start. But the numbers do not lie.
The most surprising thing I learned is that I run with my arms! When using a metronome to train my turnover rate to a higher level (I train at 190 bpm), I found it was my arm swing I had to force to match the metronome, not my legs. Whatever my arms do, my legs will follow (if they can). The reverse did not work at all for me: Trying to make my legs turn over faster was a pointless endeavor. I've recently begun looking at my leg swing, and seeing if I can use my arms to help improve it, rather than focusing only on the legs.
I also had to incorporate stretching and some light strength training to help my arms become better at doing the swings that worked best for me. In particular, my rearward swing increased quite a bit (especially uphill), and I had to increase my strength and range of motion to make it effective, comfortable and sustainable.
Right now, my best arm swing on level ground with fresh legs looks like this:
- Elbows at about 95 degrees (slightly open)
- Hands open and flat (making a fist ruins my arm swing)
- Arm swing does not cross the body (no torso twist)
- Rearward swing is slightly exaggerated (it helps me maintain my best forward lean and also helps me use my hamstrings better)
- Downward arm swing is forceful, return swing is relaxed (it basically matches what the opposite leg is doing)
Having minimal torso twist has proven to be a key component toward helping me go faster. YMMV: Many runners require some torso twist to help obtain full leg extension. I have long arms relative to my leg length (great for swimming) which seems to make torso twist unnecessary for me. (I did try bending my arms more and adding torso twist, but it slowed me down.)
The thing is, this is beginning to feel like a never-ending cycle: Every time I get faster, my stride lengthens (I keep a near-constant turnover rate), and I need to adapt my arm swing to work better with the increased range of leg motion. If you already have great cardio conditioning and good speed, you may reach your potential sooner, with less experimentation and adaptation.
I'm still trying to work my way down to an 8 minute pace, one step at a time...
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Running and Music
I can't count how often I hear someone complain about earphones that don't stay put while running, often due to motion and/or sweat. They will then ask: "What is the best kind of earphones to use while running?"
The correct answer is none.
The vast majority of runners do at least some running on or near roads. Anywhere moving vehicles and people mix, collisions are sure to happen. Runners are seldom hit from the front, since the eyes can provide enough warning to avoid a collision.
Most runners get hit from the back or side, where the ears are the main warning source. Intentionally reducing ear sensitivity while running anywhere near traffic is literally suicidal. Many communities understand this, and have passed laws restricting the use of earphones and music players near roads.
I have personal experience with this: Just over 25 years ago a runner wearing earphones was waiting for the light to change at an intersection, then proceeded to run across the wrong side of the intersection. I was just entering the intersection on my motorcycle, having timed the light perfectly, only to suddenly find that runner in front of me.
I hit the brakes and horn and veered to miss the runner, but she kept going, never hearing the huge amount of noise my horn and tires were making. I was unable to avoid slamming into her. I had a very rough landing, was knocked unconscious, and nearly slid into oncoming traffic.
When I woke in the hospital, two police officers were standing at the foot of my bed. They asked if I knew what had happened, and I told them everything I could remember. My memory abruptly ended an instant before the impact. I didn't remember the collision itself or anything after.
They next told me she was declared dead at the scene. My blood pressure crashed and I passed out for a few moments. When I came to again, they said something that's been burned into my memory ever since: "It was not your fault. The witnesses and the evidence at the scene make it clear you did everything possible to prevent the collision. The earphones she was wearing and the volume setting of her music player combined to make her completely unaware the danger she was in. She was negligent to the point that she essentially committed suicide, and used your motorcycle to do so." They said more after that, but my mind had locked up trying to process that last sentence.
Even now, a quarter of a century later, this memory still wakes me, my heart thumping and my hands shaking.
There is no safe way to combine music and traffic with running or bicycling. Just being a runner or bicyclist on a road is hazardous enough without making it worse by adding music.
The music a road runner hears is often their own requiem.
I'm enough of a personal libertarian to believe that we each have the right to determine when and how we leave this world. I also believe in personal and social responsibility, and we should not inflict needless trauma on others.
Wearing earphones while running or biking anywhere near a road is equivalent to intentionally making yourself a candidate for a Darwin Award. But as you exit the gene pool, you should try to do so with minimal pain to loved ones and strangers alike.
Wearing only one earphone or keeping the volume down is not a viable solution: Your attention will still be on the music, instead of on the hazards present in the world around you.
The same applies to using a phone while running.
If you must run with music, please stay well away from traffic, and consider these alternatives to roads and sidewalks:
Update, 16 August: I've received a fair amount of feedback about this post. Some said they rely on music to keep their pace regular. In that case, consider running with a metronome such as the inexpensive Seiko DM50. The beep of the metronome will not prevent you from hearing approaching traffic. I seldom run without mine!
The correct answer is none.
The vast majority of runners do at least some running on or near roads. Anywhere moving vehicles and people mix, collisions are sure to happen. Runners are seldom hit from the front, since the eyes can provide enough warning to avoid a collision.
Most runners get hit from the back or side, where the ears are the main warning source. Intentionally reducing ear sensitivity while running anywhere near traffic is literally suicidal. Many communities understand this, and have passed laws restricting the use of earphones and music players near roads.
I have personal experience with this: Just over 25 years ago a runner wearing earphones was waiting for the light to change at an intersection, then proceeded to run across the wrong side of the intersection. I was just entering the intersection on my motorcycle, having timed the light perfectly, only to suddenly find that runner in front of me.
I hit the brakes and horn and veered to miss the runner, but she kept going, never hearing the huge amount of noise my horn and tires were making. I was unable to avoid slamming into her. I had a very rough landing, was knocked unconscious, and nearly slid into oncoming traffic.
When I woke in the hospital, two police officers were standing at the foot of my bed. They asked if I knew what had happened, and I told them everything I could remember. My memory abruptly ended an instant before the impact. I didn't remember the collision itself or anything after.
They next told me she was declared dead at the scene. My blood pressure crashed and I passed out for a few moments. When I came to again, they said something that's been burned into my memory ever since: "It was not your fault. The witnesses and the evidence at the scene make it clear you did everything possible to prevent the collision. The earphones she was wearing and the volume setting of her music player combined to make her completely unaware the danger she was in. She was negligent to the point that she essentially committed suicide, and used your motorcycle to do so." They said more after that, but my mind had locked up trying to process that last sentence.
Even now, a quarter of a century later, this memory still wakes me, my heart thumping and my hands shaking.
There is no safe way to combine music and traffic with running or bicycling. Just being a runner or bicyclist on a road is hazardous enough without making it worse by adding music.
The music a road runner hears is often their own requiem.
I'm enough of a personal libertarian to believe that we each have the right to determine when and how we leave this world. I also believe in personal and social responsibility, and we should not inflict needless trauma on others.
Wearing earphones while running or biking anywhere near a road is equivalent to intentionally making yourself a candidate for a Darwin Award. But as you exit the gene pool, you should try to do so with minimal pain to loved ones and strangers alike.
Wearing only one earphone or keeping the volume down is not a viable solution: Your attention will still be on the music, instead of on the hazards present in the world around you.
The same applies to using a phone while running.
If you must run with music, please stay well away from traffic, and consider these alternatives to roads and sidewalks:
- Treadmills
- Oval tracks
- Paved paths
- Trails
Update, 16 August: I've received a fair amount of feedback about this post. Some said they rely on music to keep their pace regular. In that case, consider running with a metronome such as the inexpensive Seiko DM50. The beep of the metronome will not prevent you from hearing approaching traffic. I seldom run without mine!
Friday, July 29, 2011
(Nearly) Barefoot Running: Why?
There is lots of online discussion about barefoot running, including running in very thin shoes such as Vibram Five Fingers (VFFs). There are many aspects to the discussions, including topics such as benefits, risks, how to transition, how to train, and many more.
My favorite running information source is RunBlogger Pete Larson, who has had many interesting recent posts on this and related topics. His coverage tends to be observation-driven, with occasional guest posts by true experts and highly respected authorities (most with PhDs). And his readers post some great comments and links.
His blog, along with my own research, convinced me to incorporate VFFs into my own training regimen.
My goal has not been to give up my "running slippers" or my racing flats, since I'm too much of a committed road runner for that. Plus, I've already had one metatarsal stress fracture and I'm not looking for another, so I like the idea of having some padding between my feet and the ground. Finally, I've looked at the soles of barefoot runners (generally thick, cracked leather), and talked with them about their experiences (frequent discomfort, especially on gravel and hot asphalt), and I'm not inspired to emulate their dedication.
Given the above, why should I do any VFF running at all? My reasoning is simple but not obvious, so please bear with me.
The online discussions tend to center on two primary tenets: Barefoot running is more "natural", and traditional running shoes can damage some runners. My personal experience emphatically supports that last point, but I'm a "broken" runner, so my case isn't typical.
So what about that "more natural" claim? The arguments for it are passionate, with some interesting evidence I found to be persuasive but not conclusive. However, my curiosity was spiked: What would change if I tried running in VFFs? How would they affect my comfort and performance?
I got my VFFs right after Christmas, while I was still recovering from my stress fracture, though I didn't start running in them until early this spring. When I did start with them, I ran only on soft surfaces (sand, turf, padded track), and only for 5 minutes at a time. I slowly built up to 20 minutes running, about 2 easy miles, then stopped adding both distance and speed. These days, I run in them only twice a month.
Why so little use? Because I immediately learned what was most important to me: Running in VFFs reveals where my gait can improve, and provides instantaneous feedback as I find and incorporate the needed improvements.
From my perspective, having less between my feet and the ground gives me much more sensitivity and input from my feet, and I become much more aware of irregularities and imbalances in my stride. Conversely, swaddling my feet in socks and shoes (even minimalist shoes) is equivalent to making my feet slightly numb. Occasionally experiencing the "direct" sensations from running in my VFFs also helps me be more aware of what my feet are doing while wearing shoes.
I use my VFFs as a way to check that my shod stride is OK, since the first 100 yards in VFFs will let me know if there is any discomfort or awkwardness I should address. Rather than thinking of my VFFs as running shoes, I view them as another training tool that provides important information, right up there with my Garmin Forerunner 305. Somewhat similar to how I sometimes ride a spin bike instead of my road bike: Doing a given activity with different equipment and/or in a different environment permits subtle aspects of the activity to be sensed and focused upon.
I believe many of us can benefit by becoming "more natural" runners. A good way to do this is to run barefoot or in VFFs. But I do not believe we need to completely give up our regular running shoes and socks to achieve the desired results. I suggest the following three-phase process:
My favorite running information source is RunBlogger Pete Larson, who has had many interesting recent posts on this and related topics. His coverage tends to be observation-driven, with occasional guest posts by true experts and highly respected authorities (most with PhDs). And his readers post some great comments and links.
His blog, along with my own research, convinced me to incorporate VFFs into my own training regimen.
My goal has not been to give up my "running slippers" or my racing flats, since I'm too much of a committed road runner for that. Plus, I've already had one metatarsal stress fracture and I'm not looking for another, so I like the idea of having some padding between my feet and the ground. Finally, I've looked at the soles of barefoot runners (generally thick, cracked leather), and talked with them about their experiences (frequent discomfort, especially on gravel and hot asphalt), and I'm not inspired to emulate their dedication.
Given the above, why should I do any VFF running at all? My reasoning is simple but not obvious, so please bear with me.
The online discussions tend to center on two primary tenets: Barefoot running is more "natural", and traditional running shoes can damage some runners. My personal experience emphatically supports that last point, but I'm a "broken" runner, so my case isn't typical.
So what about that "more natural" claim? The arguments for it are passionate, with some interesting evidence I found to be persuasive but not conclusive. However, my curiosity was spiked: What would change if I tried running in VFFs? How would they affect my comfort and performance?
I got my VFFs right after Christmas, while I was still recovering from my stress fracture, though I didn't start running in them until early this spring. When I did start with them, I ran only on soft surfaces (sand, turf, padded track), and only for 5 minutes at a time. I slowly built up to 20 minutes running, about 2 easy miles, then stopped adding both distance and speed. These days, I run in them only twice a month.
Why so little use? Because I immediately learned what was most important to me: Running in VFFs reveals where my gait can improve, and provides instantaneous feedback as I find and incorporate the needed improvements.
From my perspective, having less between my feet and the ground gives me much more sensitivity and input from my feet, and I become much more aware of irregularities and imbalances in my stride. Conversely, swaddling my feet in socks and shoes (even minimalist shoes) is equivalent to making my feet slightly numb. Occasionally experiencing the "direct" sensations from running in my VFFs also helps me be more aware of what my feet are doing while wearing shoes.
I use my VFFs as a way to check that my shod stride is OK, since the first 100 yards in VFFs will let me know if there is any discomfort or awkwardness I should address. Rather than thinking of my VFFs as running shoes, I view them as another training tool that provides important information, right up there with my Garmin Forerunner 305. Somewhat similar to how I sometimes ride a spin bike instead of my road bike: Doing a given activity with different equipment and/or in a different environment permits subtle aspects of the activity to be sensed and focused upon.
I believe many of us can benefit by becoming "more natural" runners. A good way to do this is to run barefoot or in VFFs. But I do not believe we need to completely give up our regular running shoes and socks to achieve the desired results. I suggest the following three-phase process:
- Starting out, do lots of short and easy barefoot/VFF runs to let your stride stabilize and find a comfort zone. This may take 1 to 3 weeks. If possible, try to limit regular running shoe use during this time: For example, do this in the off-season.
- Continue light/easy running for the next 1 to 2 weeks. During each run, frequently switch back and forth between shoes and barefoot/VFFs until the transition between them is smooth and effortless.
- Return to normal training in shoes, and periodically do some short/easy barefoot/VFF runs to ensure the stride is still OK.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Increasing Running Cadence / Turnover Rate
The single most prevalent feature I see among miserable / uncomfortable runners is a slow cadence / turnover rate. A very low rate means a very long stride, and the slow rate and long length makes for a harder impact.
Rather than have a low rate of hard impacts, why not have a higher rate of softer impacts? Even if you don't go any faster, a more rapid cadence can make running much less stressful on the feet and legs.
When I started to increase my own cadence, I noticed another effect: I stopped twisting my ankles! I've always been plagued by "weak" ankles that would twist and sprain with the slightest provocation, such as stepping off a curb. I can't count the times I've "rolled" my ankles while running, where my normal pronation would keep going and I'd "run over the side of my foot".
Of course, a physical therapist would instantly identify the true cause as being chronically over-stretched tendons and ligaments combined with weak stabilization muscles. Once this state is entered, it is tough to recover without severe activity limits combined with physical therapy. As a new triathlete returning to running after a 25+ year absence, I didn't want to have to quit running so soon after returning to it!
Unfortunately, as I increased my turnover rate, I found it was almost impossible for me to maintain the higher rate: The moment my attention drifted, I would return to my bad-old slow pounding rate. And even when I did manage to maintain my focus, data from my Garmin shoe pod made it very clear that my cadence was varying wildly.
After doing some internet searches for more information, I learned that some runners had to resort to running with a metronome to maintain a desired turnover rate. Many different metronome brands and models were mentioned, but most seemed either too delicate, too heavy, too expensive, or too quiet/loud to be used for daily running.
After several shopping searches I stumbled upon the Seiko DM50, a small, inexpensive metronome with adjustable volume, and it even had a clip on it! To avoid annoying those around me, I used the quietest setting. For runs in quiet areas (away from traffic) I clip it to the waistband of my running shorts, and in noisy areas I clip it to the neck of my T-shirt.
But to what rate should I set the metronome? After more online research and some personal experimentation, I decided I wanted to use a cadence that would be just below the fastest cadence I could sustain during a best-effort 50 meter sprint. My Garmin said I was averaging a 100 cadence on such sprints, which equates to a turnover rate of 200 beats per minute. I set the metronome to a 2-beat rhythm ("beep-boop") at 190 beats per minute.
My reasoning behind selecting this setting is surprisingly simple: My research showed that all the top running authorities agree it is far harder to change to a new cadence than it is to adjust stride length. Since my goal is to run as fast as I possibly can, I decided it makes sense to learn to use that fast cadence now, then simply extend my stride length as my conditioning and skills improve. Since I doubt I'll ever be able to sprint during an entire endurance run, something below my maximum sprint cadence is indicated.
After looking at the turnover rates of many top endurance runners and triathletes (mainly done by counting the frames between footfalls in the many running videos on RunBlogger Pete Larson's site and his YouTube channel), it seemed most had rates between 180 and 200 bpm. But most top runners have fairly long legs. When I restricted my search to those with legs that looked to be like mine (32" inseam), the fastest runners tended to cluster close to 200 bpm. So it seems it was no accident that my own top sprint turnover rate was 200 bpm!
I should mention my 50 meter sprint average speed was only a 6:15 pace. Vastly slower than the top marathoners I was observing. Which is why I set my metronome to a slightly slower rate of 190 bpm (95 rpm).
One neat aspect of this number is it nicely matches my cycling cadence. My best hammering on the bike occurs at cadences between 90 and 100 rpm, depending on the terrain, the gear I'm using, and my fatigue level.
Making my legs match this rate while running has been tough! I soon found that when I did manage to complete an entire training run at this rate while averaging a comfortable 9:30 pace, my legs were much less fatigued, though my lungs were working significantly harder.
The harder breathing at the higher turnover rate clearly highlights my lack of cardiovascular conditioning, while it simultaneously demonstrates the stress on my leg muscles and joints has been significantly reduced. I suspect part of the issue is that my leg muscles will need lots of time to fully adapt to the higher turnover rate, and I expect their oxygen demand will decrease over time.
One neat side-effect has been that I've been able to reduce some of my bike training and replace it with running: Running at the higher cadence seems to complement my cycling, so less saddle time is needed to maintain my performance level. Of course, when it comes time to improve on the bike, I'll have to add that bike time back in.
I do wish it worked the other way: I'd much rather increase my biking if it would permit me to reduce my running while sustaining or improving my run performance. Biking is so much easier for me than running. The universe seems to be a one-way street in that area.
While I consistently train at a 190 turnover rate (95 cadence), I race without the metronome (mainly due to a fear of having small children point at me). So I occasionally do a test run without the metronome to see how my "free" cadence is changing. Over time, my free cadence has increased to between 80 and 85 rpm (160-170 bpm), which feels much better than my bad-old cadence of 65-75.
A gratifying change due to my training at a constant high cadence is how I handle hills. I used to suffer when encountering any terrain that wasn't flat as a pancake. Now when I go up a hill, I must shorten my stride in order to maintain the 190 turnover rate. The short, quick steps make me feel like I'm motoring all the way up! And instead of reaching the top exhausted, I'm now able to smoothly return to my normal stride length.
The best part has been the downhills. In the bad-old days, my long stride would be extremely punishing when going downhill. Within half a block I'd get joint pain, PF pain and shin splints as my heel pounded into the road and my foot slapped down. To limit impact today, I still need to shorten my stride while maintaining my turnover rate, but it now feels like I'm gliding down the hill (though I suppose I must look like a hamster in a wheel). I reach the bottom feeling fresh, ready to pour on the effort.
Unlike most runners, my downhill speed is slower than my flat-land speed. The downhills are the only place where I feel I really need all the comfort my shoes and stride can supply. Any stride fault while going down a hill instantly sends a jolt up my legs, which my spine converts to pain. My current running shoes have a 4mm heel-to-toe drop. I believe reducing that drop further, preferably to zero, will accomplish the dual effect of permitting me to increase my downhill stride length (and speed) while simultaneously giving my calves more time to absorb the impact.
That change will have to wait until my sports gear budget gets replenished. In the mean time, I'll be quite content to watch my overall pace gradually decrease, with no reduction to my running comfort.
Rather than have a low rate of hard impacts, why not have a higher rate of softer impacts? Even if you don't go any faster, a more rapid cadence can make running much less stressful on the feet and legs.
A note about Cadence vs. Turnover Rate: Cadence has units of revolutions per minute (rpm), and in running it is the number of times per minute a given foot (either right or left) hits the ground. Turnover rate has units of beats per minute (bpm), and in running it is the number of times per minute any foot (both right and left) hits the ground. That is to say, cadence looks at only one leg, while turnover rate looks at both. So a cadence of 90 rpm is the same as a turnover rate of 180 bpm. Most running articles and books talk about turnover rate, but most shoe pods measure cadence.
When I started to increase my own cadence, I noticed another effect: I stopped twisting my ankles! I've always been plagued by "weak" ankles that would twist and sprain with the slightest provocation, such as stepping off a curb. I can't count the times I've "rolled" my ankles while running, where my normal pronation would keep going and I'd "run over the side of my foot".
Of course, a physical therapist would instantly identify the true cause as being chronically over-stretched tendons and ligaments combined with weak stabilization muscles. Once this state is entered, it is tough to recover without severe activity limits combined with physical therapy. As a new triathlete returning to running after a 25+ year absence, I didn't want to have to quit running so soon after returning to it!
Unfortunately, as I increased my turnover rate, I found it was almost impossible for me to maintain the higher rate: The moment my attention drifted, I would return to my bad-old slow pounding rate. And even when I did manage to maintain my focus, data from my Garmin shoe pod made it very clear that my cadence was varying wildly.
After doing some internet searches for more information, I learned that some runners had to resort to running with a metronome to maintain a desired turnover rate. Many different metronome brands and models were mentioned, but most seemed either too delicate, too heavy, too expensive, or too quiet/loud to be used for daily running.
After several shopping searches I stumbled upon the Seiko DM50, a small, inexpensive metronome with adjustable volume, and it even had a clip on it! To avoid annoying those around me, I used the quietest setting. For runs in quiet areas (away from traffic) I clip it to the waistband of my running shorts, and in noisy areas I clip it to the neck of my T-shirt.
But to what rate should I set the metronome? After more online research and some personal experimentation, I decided I wanted to use a cadence that would be just below the fastest cadence I could sustain during a best-effort 50 meter sprint. My Garmin said I was averaging a 100 cadence on such sprints, which equates to a turnover rate of 200 beats per minute. I set the metronome to a 2-beat rhythm ("beep-boop") at 190 beats per minute.
My reasoning behind selecting this setting is surprisingly simple: My research showed that all the top running authorities agree it is far harder to change to a new cadence than it is to adjust stride length. Since my goal is to run as fast as I possibly can, I decided it makes sense to learn to use that fast cadence now, then simply extend my stride length as my conditioning and skills improve. Since I doubt I'll ever be able to sprint during an entire endurance run, something below my maximum sprint cadence is indicated.
After looking at the turnover rates of many top endurance runners and triathletes (mainly done by counting the frames between footfalls in the many running videos on RunBlogger Pete Larson's site and his YouTube channel), it seemed most had rates between 180 and 200 bpm. But most top runners have fairly long legs. When I restricted my search to those with legs that looked to be like mine (32" inseam), the fastest runners tended to cluster close to 200 bpm. So it seems it was no accident that my own top sprint turnover rate was 200 bpm!
I should mention my 50 meter sprint average speed was only a 6:15 pace. Vastly slower than the top marathoners I was observing. Which is why I set my metronome to a slightly slower rate of 190 bpm (95 rpm).
One neat aspect of this number is it nicely matches my cycling cadence. My best hammering on the bike occurs at cadences between 90 and 100 rpm, depending on the terrain, the gear I'm using, and my fatigue level.
Making my legs match this rate while running has been tough! I soon found that when I did manage to complete an entire training run at this rate while averaging a comfortable 9:30 pace, my legs were much less fatigued, though my lungs were working significantly harder.
The harder breathing at the higher turnover rate clearly highlights my lack of cardiovascular conditioning, while it simultaneously demonstrates the stress on my leg muscles and joints has been significantly reduced. I suspect part of the issue is that my leg muscles will need lots of time to fully adapt to the higher turnover rate, and I expect their oxygen demand will decrease over time.
One neat side-effect has been that I've been able to reduce some of my bike training and replace it with running: Running at the higher cadence seems to complement my cycling, so less saddle time is needed to maintain my performance level. Of course, when it comes time to improve on the bike, I'll have to add that bike time back in.
I do wish it worked the other way: I'd much rather increase my biking if it would permit me to reduce my running while sustaining or improving my run performance. Biking is so much easier for me than running. The universe seems to be a one-way street in that area.
While I consistently train at a 190 turnover rate (95 cadence), I race without the metronome (mainly due to a fear of having small children point at me). So I occasionally do a test run without the metronome to see how my "free" cadence is changing. Over time, my free cadence has increased to between 80 and 85 rpm (160-170 bpm), which feels much better than my bad-old cadence of 65-75.
A gratifying change due to my training at a constant high cadence is how I handle hills. I used to suffer when encountering any terrain that wasn't flat as a pancake. Now when I go up a hill, I must shorten my stride in order to maintain the 190 turnover rate. The short, quick steps make me feel like I'm motoring all the way up! And instead of reaching the top exhausted, I'm now able to smoothly return to my normal stride length.
The best part has been the downhills. In the bad-old days, my long stride would be extremely punishing when going downhill. Within half a block I'd get joint pain, PF pain and shin splints as my heel pounded into the road and my foot slapped down. To limit impact today, I still need to shorten my stride while maintaining my turnover rate, but it now feels like I'm gliding down the hill (though I suppose I must look like a hamster in a wheel). I reach the bottom feeling fresh, ready to pour on the effort.
Unlike most runners, my downhill speed is slower than my flat-land speed. The downhills are the only place where I feel I really need all the comfort my shoes and stride can supply. Any stride fault while going down a hill instantly sends a jolt up my legs, which my spine converts to pain. My current running shoes have a 4mm heel-to-toe drop. I believe reducing that drop further, preferably to zero, will accomplish the dual effect of permitting me to increase my downhill stride length (and speed) while simultaneously giving my calves more time to absorb the impact.
That change will have to wait until my sports gear budget gets replenished. In the mean time, I'll be quite content to watch my overall pace gradually decrease, with no reduction to my running comfort.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Personal Trainer Certification
When I had developed the initial version of my run clinic, I wanted to test it with a few willing volunteers from the triathlon club. The club's board of directors (BoD) put up a brick wall because I had no certifications of any kind.
I initially thought this was some form of elitism, since my research revealed NO other run coaching or training programs that would help convert ex-runners and uncomfortable runners to comfortable endurance runners. There was no certified program that taught anything close to my clinic! Why did the board want me to have some alphabet soup after my name?
After looking into the matter, I found it's not about a piece of paper: It's about professionalism, which really means its about liability. Every professional practitioner of any kind, from MD to chiropractor to massage therapist, is certified by a recognized and accepted authority, is a member of a professional organization, and has liability insurance to ensure any harm they may inadvertently cause will be remedied.
The status of being a professional means you can't hide behind a liability waiver. The waiver only protects you against things the client does against your instructions (such as "Stop if you feel any pain!"). If the client is harmed while acting according to your instructions, you may be liable.
A run clinic for "broken" runners is certainly not a minimal-risk environment! The club BoD was absolutely right: It would be very wrong for the club to permit me to offer a clinic to its members without professional certification and liability insurance.
So I looked at all the professional certifications I could realistically pursue, including Physical Therapist, USAT Level 1 Triathlon Coach, Certified Personal Trainer (CPT), and a few others. The one most relevant to my run clinic is CPT, though the USAT Level 1 Coaching cert may be more useful in the long run.
The USAT Level 1 coaching certification is relatively simple to acquire: It takes only money to travel to and attend a certification clinic. Total cost, about $1000. Unfortunately, the next clinic I could reasonably attend isn't until September. Plus, the cost is an obstacle right now, though it may not be in September.
For the near term, becoming a CPT seems to be the way to go. A quick online search reveals literally a dozen or more different Personal Trainer certification programs out there, several of which have national-level recognition and acceptance. Most of them are either online programs, or DVD-based, or both. Only a very few are in-class hands-on programs.
I've been working with a personal trainer 2-3 times a week for a decade. Over those years I've often "traded up", and I now believe I'm working with one of the very best personal trainers in all of San Diego. I think I'm getting as good or better "hands-on" training than any classroom course could provide.
So I decided to restrict my search to the DVD and online certification programs. Several of these also had good national acceptance. Unfortunately, the total certification costs of those programs tend to start at $1000 and go up from there. And each program has different recertification costs and insurance rates.
I decided to restrict my focus to the cost of insurance, which is where the rubber hits the road: If I want at least $2 million in coverage, which program gets me certified with the lowest total cost when insurance is included?
The result surprised me. No, it shocked me! The ACT Certification program has a FREE certification available, though it has an annual insurance cost that happens to be $5 HIGHER than the paid program + the discounted insurance. The total cost for a 2 year ACT certification + 2 years of insurance? The annual costs are the $65 program fee + the $105 insurance premium, or $170/year. Which, for two years is $340. That's less than what some programs charge just to take their exam!
While ACT has not yet been accredited by a national agency, they are absolutely committed to obtaining NCCA approval, and it looks like they will acquire it before the end of this summer.
What amazes me is that their insurance company sells insurance to ACT-certified personal trainers at such a reasonable rate. Someone has done the risk assessment, and has found the ACT approach worthy. I wonder why other certification programs have much higher insurance rates? Perhaps they are padding the total to obtain maximum profit. If that's the case, then ACT has gained even more of my respect.
ACT claims one of their goals is to turn the economics of the fitness certification industry on its head. Their low program costs and low insurance rates seem to back this ideology to the hilt.
After all, I am the one doing all the work to get certified! What does the certification program itself do? Once the course is designed, implemented and approved, everything else is either stamping out copies or computer-based. Basically, minimal per-student costs, even allowing for ongoing program development and improvement. You can get a high-volume web server from GoDaddy that can support millions of users for a total cost of under $10/month: The recurring costs to present an existing online program truly are minimal, even trivial.
I can't judge the quality of the ACT content. But then, I don't feel I need to: Their insurance provider has done their own due diligence. Then again, I haven't read the insurance policy itself yet, so I don't really know what it does and does not cover.
I do get it all for only $14.66/month: Training, certification, CEU (Continuing Education Unit) classes, recertification, and insurance.
At this price, it seems silly to pay more now, since I'm planning to get the USAT cert eventually. At the very least, the ACT program is a minimal investment that is worth trying, just for the hell of it.
ACT, here I come!
I initially thought this was some form of elitism, since my research revealed NO other run coaching or training programs that would help convert ex-runners and uncomfortable runners to comfortable endurance runners. There was no certified program that taught anything close to my clinic! Why did the board want me to have some alphabet soup after my name?
After looking into the matter, I found it's not about a piece of paper: It's about professionalism, which really means its about liability. Every professional practitioner of any kind, from MD to chiropractor to massage therapist, is certified by a recognized and accepted authority, is a member of a professional organization, and has liability insurance to ensure any harm they may inadvertently cause will be remedied.
The status of being a professional means you can't hide behind a liability waiver. The waiver only protects you against things the client does against your instructions (such as "Stop if you feel any pain!"). If the client is harmed while acting according to your instructions, you may be liable.
A run clinic for "broken" runners is certainly not a minimal-risk environment! The club BoD was absolutely right: It would be very wrong for the club to permit me to offer a clinic to its members without professional certification and liability insurance.
So I looked at all the professional certifications I could realistically pursue, including Physical Therapist, USAT Level 1 Triathlon Coach, Certified Personal Trainer (CPT), and a few others. The one most relevant to my run clinic is CPT, though the USAT Level 1 Coaching cert may be more useful in the long run.
The USAT Level 1 coaching certification is relatively simple to acquire: It takes only money to travel to and attend a certification clinic. Total cost, about $1000. Unfortunately, the next clinic I could reasonably attend isn't until September. Plus, the cost is an obstacle right now, though it may not be in September.
For the near term, becoming a CPT seems to be the way to go. A quick online search reveals literally a dozen or more different Personal Trainer certification programs out there, several of which have national-level recognition and acceptance. Most of them are either online programs, or DVD-based, or both. Only a very few are in-class hands-on programs.
I've been working with a personal trainer 2-3 times a week for a decade. Over those years I've often "traded up", and I now believe I'm working with one of the very best personal trainers in all of San Diego. I think I'm getting as good or better "hands-on" training than any classroom course could provide.
So I decided to restrict my search to the DVD and online certification programs. Several of these also had good national acceptance. Unfortunately, the total certification costs of those programs tend to start at $1000 and go up from there. And each program has different recertification costs and insurance rates.
I decided to restrict my focus to the cost of insurance, which is where the rubber hits the road: If I want at least $2 million in coverage, which program gets me certified with the lowest total cost when insurance is included?
The result surprised me. No, it shocked me! The ACT Certification program has a FREE certification available, though it has an annual insurance cost that happens to be $5 HIGHER than the paid program + the discounted insurance. The total cost for a 2 year ACT certification + 2 years of insurance? The annual costs are the $65 program fee + the $105 insurance premium, or $170/year. Which, for two years is $340. That's less than what some programs charge just to take their exam!
While ACT has not yet been accredited by a national agency, they are absolutely committed to obtaining NCCA approval, and it looks like they will acquire it before the end of this summer.
What amazes me is that their insurance company sells insurance to ACT-certified personal trainers at such a reasonable rate. Someone has done the risk assessment, and has found the ACT approach worthy. I wonder why other certification programs have much higher insurance rates? Perhaps they are padding the total to obtain maximum profit. If that's the case, then ACT has gained even more of my respect.
ACT claims one of their goals is to turn the economics of the fitness certification industry on its head. Their low program costs and low insurance rates seem to back this ideology to the hilt.
After all, I am the one doing all the work to get certified! What does the certification program itself do? Once the course is designed, implemented and approved, everything else is either stamping out copies or computer-based. Basically, minimal per-student costs, even allowing for ongoing program development and improvement. You can get a high-volume web server from GoDaddy that can support millions of users for a total cost of under $10/month: The recurring costs to present an existing online program truly are minimal, even trivial.
I can't judge the quality of the ACT content. But then, I don't feel I need to: Their insurance provider has done their own due diligence. Then again, I haven't read the insurance policy itself yet, so I don't really know what it does and does not cover.
I do get it all for only $14.66/month: Training, certification, CEU (Continuing Education Unit) classes, recertification, and insurance.
At this price, it seems silly to pay more now, since I'm planning to get the USAT cert eventually. At the very least, the ACT program is a minimal investment that is worth trying, just for the hell of it.
ACT, here I come!
Friday, June 17, 2011
Interviewing and Assessing
Sorry for going so long without a post!
I've been spending the past several weeks talking to folks who are ex-runners or have problems running, and trying to form accurate assessments of their current condition and the likelihood I'll be able to help them.
It seems everyone has their own personal horror stories related to running. When the stories are told in the present tense, I want to understand if the problem is transient or continual, and if it is due to poor running form, inadequate strength, or a deeper medical issue.
Turning stories into assessments is tough! After the story, I ask questions to learn more, generally to separate emotional pain and frustration from physical pain, and to separate physical causes from physical effects.
An example: I had one friend going on about minor annoying knee pain that became agony when running. I asked about his warmups, asked if he had changed anything (such as shoes, route, or duration), and asked if anything else aggravated his knee. It wasn't until well into our discussion I asked "When did you knee start to hurt?" His answer was informative: "Right after I slipped and fell in my kitchen."
The problem had nothing to do with running, and everything to do with letting a damaged knee heel. He didn't need any developmental running help from me: I told him to go to his doctor to ensure no soft tissue was damaged and no bones where chipped or cracked.
Doing a good interview isn't trivial. I've seen many folks (help desks, doctors, physical therapists, car mechanics, etc.) ask questions until they find something "interesting", then take off on a tangent instead of completing the interview process.
To ensure I stay on track until the interview process is completed, I'm building a list of things I want to know about a problem runner, and good questions to ask to get than information.
Even with the best interview in the world, I'm still only getting the person's subjective observations. Objective information is critical not only to establish facts independently of the person's story, but also to learn what is subjectively most important to that person, and as a chance to identify missed items for additional discussion.
So along with each subjective story, I must also ask the person to perform objective tests. It is important these tests don't aggravate any condition: The fundamental premise in providing any kind of training or care must be: "First, Do No Harm."
If the person can't walk without difficulty, then clearly there's nothing I can do for them related to running. If they can walk comfortably, then a wide range of tests are possible. Going from simplest to most difficult, the list includes:
The list goes on. The key thing is to sequence the tests in order of increasing difficulty, to learn as much as possible from each test, and then to stop when things become too difficult.
But the list of tests should not grow without end: It is important for me to employ only those tests that provide information I can do something with, and avoid tests that may reveal limitations that have nothing to do with running. Not only do I want to avoid wasting time and effort, but I also don't want to go into information overload!
The assessment process doesn't end after the initial interview: When run training starts, it is important to continue to perform assessments with each new exercise and drill. With repetition, the exercises and drills will stop providing new information concerning symptoms, and will start indicating progress toward the goal of creating a comfortable runner.
I've done many online searches looking for good interview and assessment guidelines and techniques, and there are surprisingly few that not only describe what an interview and assessment should achieve, but also provide meaningful guidance toward developing interview and assessment procedures, and designing the individual steps required.
The best I've found come from the medicine and psychology fields, but they are way too technical and academic for me to gain knowledge I can apply to my own run clinic. Training and coaching guides provide lots of examples, but little pedagogy. Or perhaps what I was searching for is just "common knowledge" in those in various fields, and not needing much in the way of discussion.
The one thing that has helped me most in developing my interview and assessment has been my experience with interviewing potential new hires, and also with being interviewed for new positions. It is vital to get the greatest amount of relevant information in the limited time available, and to use that information to make the best decision possible.
In this case, I'm interviewing potential members of my run clinic, and hopefully they are simultaneously interviewing me as well. I need to get the information I need to determine if they should seek medical advice instead of joining my clinic. If I think I can help, I need to communicate that in a manner that will gain agreement and commitment from the person: I have no reason work with an unwilling or unhopeful client!
I initially thought the target and method of my clinic was what made it unique and worthy. I'm now beginning to suspect that the interview and assessment process will be at least as important in determining successful outcomes as the clinic itself.
I've been spending the past several weeks talking to folks who are ex-runners or have problems running, and trying to form accurate assessments of their current condition and the likelihood I'll be able to help them.
It seems everyone has their own personal horror stories related to running. When the stories are told in the present tense, I want to understand if the problem is transient or continual, and if it is due to poor running form, inadequate strength, or a deeper medical issue.
Turning stories into assessments is tough! After the story, I ask questions to learn more, generally to separate emotional pain and frustration from physical pain, and to separate physical causes from physical effects.
An example: I had one friend going on about minor annoying knee pain that became agony when running. I asked about his warmups, asked if he had changed anything (such as shoes, route, or duration), and asked if anything else aggravated his knee. It wasn't until well into our discussion I asked "When did you knee start to hurt?" His answer was informative: "Right after I slipped and fell in my kitchen."
The problem had nothing to do with running, and everything to do with letting a damaged knee heel. He didn't need any developmental running help from me: I told him to go to his doctor to ensure no soft tissue was damaged and no bones where chipped or cracked.
Doing a good interview isn't trivial. I've seen many folks (help desks, doctors, physical therapists, car mechanics, etc.) ask questions until they find something "interesting", then take off on a tangent instead of completing the interview process.
To ensure I stay on track until the interview process is completed, I'm building a list of things I want to know about a problem runner, and good questions to ask to get than information.
Even with the best interview in the world, I'm still only getting the person's subjective observations. Objective information is critical not only to establish facts independently of the person's story, but also to learn what is subjectively most important to that person, and as a chance to identify missed items for additional discussion.
So along with each subjective story, I must also ask the person to perform objective tests. It is important these tests don't aggravate any condition: The fundamental premise in providing any kind of training or care must be: "First, Do No Harm."
If the person can't walk without difficulty, then clearly there's nothing I can do for them related to running. If they can walk comfortably, then a wide range of tests are possible. Going from simplest to most difficult, the list includes:
- Monitor the walking gait. Is it smooth and symmetric?
- Watch how the person gets out of a chair. Can they stand up directly, or do they need to push themselves up?
- Can the person balance on one foot? With eyes closed?
- How difficult is it to do squats? Squat-and-hold? How many are possible? Is one leg favored over the other?
- ...
The list goes on. The key thing is to sequence the tests in order of increasing difficulty, to learn as much as possible from each test, and then to stop when things become too difficult.
But the list of tests should not grow without end: It is important for me to employ only those tests that provide information I can do something with, and avoid tests that may reveal limitations that have nothing to do with running. Not only do I want to avoid wasting time and effort, but I also don't want to go into information overload!
The assessment process doesn't end after the initial interview: When run training starts, it is important to continue to perform assessments with each new exercise and drill. With repetition, the exercises and drills will stop providing new information concerning symptoms, and will start indicating progress toward the goal of creating a comfortable runner.
I've done many online searches looking for good interview and assessment guidelines and techniques, and there are surprisingly few that not only describe what an interview and assessment should achieve, but also provide meaningful guidance toward developing interview and assessment procedures, and designing the individual steps required.
The best I've found come from the medicine and psychology fields, but they are way too technical and academic for me to gain knowledge I can apply to my own run clinic. Training and coaching guides provide lots of examples, but little pedagogy. Or perhaps what I was searching for is just "common knowledge" in those in various fields, and not needing much in the way of discussion.
The one thing that has helped me most in developing my interview and assessment has been my experience with interviewing potential new hires, and also with being interviewed for new positions. It is vital to get the greatest amount of relevant information in the limited time available, and to use that information to make the best decision possible.
In this case, I'm interviewing potential members of my run clinic, and hopefully they are simultaneously interviewing me as well. I need to get the information I need to determine if they should seek medical advice instead of joining my clinic. If I think I can help, I need to communicate that in a manner that will gain agreement and commitment from the person: I have no reason work with an unwilling or unhopeful client!
I initially thought the target and method of my clinic was what made it unique and worthy. I'm now beginning to suspect that the interview and assessment process will be at least as important in determining successful outcomes as the clinic itself.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Running without running
My reply to a comment in a prior post reminded me I haven't talked much about the transition from preparing to run (via exercise and stretching, to be described in greater detail in a future post) to actually running.
Once the body is made strong enough to run (via exercise), and is made capable of the range of motion needed to run (via stretching), how do we best proceed from being stationary to eventually running?
The key element of this process is training the muscles to fire with the basic order and timing (the muscle firing 'pattern') needed for running. For me, this process has two intermediate steps or stages between being stationary and running:
Another neat feature of running in-place is that there is an easy, even trivial, transition to jogging: Rather than putting the foot down in the same place, it is instead placed an inch forward of its prior place. Then two inches. Then 4 inches. Then the length of the foot. This can be done gradually, over days or weeks, to ensure propulsion skills are developed smoothly. And it is all done at a constant and uniform cadence.
When the stride has lengthened to where the feet no longer overlap, then that meets my minimal definition of jogging. Beyond this point, a more forceful arm swing comes into play.
The process continues, always at a constant 190 bpm cadence, until the stride lengthens enough to permit the forward speed to increase until a pace of 10:30 minutes per mile is reached and exceeded, at which point the definition of running has also been reached.
Notice how seamless and smooth the flow is from being stationary to running. There is no sudden change anywhere along the path. All aspects of the gait can be continuously monitored and adjusted well before any issues cause discomfort, pain or injury.
If you have problems running, see if you have problems jogging. If you have problems jogging, see if you have problems running-in-place. If you have problems running-in-place, ensure you have the required strength and flexibility. If you lack strength, do exercises. If you lack flexibility, do stretches.
If you have problems doing exercises or stretches, see your doctor!
Or, if you presently don't run at all, do the above in reverse:
Once the body is made strong enough to run (via exercise), and is made capable of the range of motion needed to run (via stretching), how do we best proceed from being stationary to eventually running?
The key element of this process is training the muscles to fire with the basic order and timing (the muscle firing 'pattern') needed for running. For me, this process has two intermediate steps or stages between being stationary and running:
- Running in-place (at a nominal 190 bpm cadence).
- Jogging (also at a 190 bpm cadence).
- It is easy to get the legs to move at the rapid 190 bpm cadence, since there is no need to simultaneously generate forward propulsion.
- It gradually builds calf muscles in precisely the way needed for running.
- It is impossible to run in-place on your heels!
- It develops dynamic balance with no risk of falling.
- Impact can easily be varied from zero to the level seen in light running.
- There is minimal torque on the joints, especially the knees and hips.
Another neat feature of running in-place is that there is an easy, even trivial, transition to jogging: Rather than putting the foot down in the same place, it is instead placed an inch forward of its prior place. Then two inches. Then 4 inches. Then the length of the foot. This can be done gradually, over days or weeks, to ensure propulsion skills are developed smoothly. And it is all done at a constant and uniform cadence.
When the stride has lengthened to where the feet no longer overlap, then that meets my minimal definition of jogging. Beyond this point, a more forceful arm swing comes into play.
The process continues, always at a constant 190 bpm cadence, until the stride lengthens enough to permit the forward speed to increase until a pace of 10:30 minutes per mile is reached and exceeded, at which point the definition of running has also been reached.
Notice how seamless and smooth the flow is from being stationary to running. There is no sudden change anywhere along the path. All aspects of the gait can be continuously monitored and adjusted well before any issues cause discomfort, pain or injury.
If you have problems running, see if you have problems jogging. If you have problems jogging, see if you have problems running-in-place. If you have problems running-in-place, ensure you have the required strength and flexibility. If you lack strength, do exercises. If you lack flexibility, do stretches.
If you have problems doing exercises or stretches, see your doctor!
Or, if you presently don't run at all, do the above in reverse:
- See your doctor: Ensure there is no reason for you not to do light running.
- Strengthen your legs with focused exercises.
- Develop the required flexibility via careful stretching.
- Start running in-place at 190 bpm.
- Start adding tiny amounts of forward motion.
- Proceed to jogging.
- Add more forceful arm swinging.
- Proceed to running.
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