AMR Aid Station: How to Beat Treadmill Boredom
Eight years ago, the treadmill saved my life.
If that sounds overly dramatic, well, at the time, I was feeling overly dramatic.
Nearly to this day eight years ago, my then-husband sprung on me a surprise divorce. We lived together for more than 20 years, but it took only four months to separate our shared lives, divide our possessions and find new places to live.
I remember these dates acutely for obvious reasons but also because while I was running the Boston Marathon in April 2011, my mortgage lender called and left a message saying if I didn’t fax over a certain document by 5 pm, the whole deal would collapse. I got the message after I crossed the finish line and staggered back to the hotel room where my mother and daughter, then 6, awaited. It was 4:20. Racing down to the business center to fax said document after running 26.2 miles—that was dramatic!
How was I going to run with primary custody of a 6-year-old, a full-time job outside the home and no family within 250 miles?
[Download Another Mother Runner’s Five Sanity-Saving Treadmill Workouts]
Do you want to play Princess, do you want to play Princess, do you want to play Princess? Mom. Mom! Mom?
Ex got the couch, I got the treadmill.
I had to hire a mechanic to take apart the treadmill and put it back together in the basement of the tiny house that Nina and I moved into. My dear friend Hillary sent over her handy husband to install the required 3-prong outlet and do something-something with the wiring.
“You’re going to have to cut a hole in the ceiling,” said Hillary’s handy husband, who stood 6’4’’ and had to stoop in our basement.
I looked up at him—way, way up. “No, I’m not,” I said. He was smart, but I am short.
Life changer: Treadmill-friendly outlet installed by friend’s handy husband, summer of 2011.
I can hear you moaning through the Ethernet: But the treadmill is so boooorrrrrrinnnnng.
Yes. But so is playing Princess in a Tent all afternoon with an exhausted nap-refusenik preschooler. Hitting “repeat” on a 1-minute toddler tune for the entirety of a 45-minute car ride. Reading the exact same books in the exact same order with the exact same inflections every single night for six months. Mom! You missed a page! Start over!
I love my kid. You love yours. Endurance is our superpower.
I was going to say that treadmills are the saviors of single/divorced running moms, but I know plenty of married moms of kids under the age of 10 who swear by theirs too. We won’t need them forever, but while the kids are still too young to leave at home alone, there are ways to survive the boredom of the treadmill to save your sanity for the other 23.5 hours of the day.
Today the treadmill is an expensive drying and shoe rack + storage area. Tomorrow, if the freeze holds, the runway will be cleared for takeoff and Netflix queued up for motivation.
TREADMILL SURVIVAL TIPS
1.The TV
It is a true fact that time drags on the treadmill. The obvious solution for any kind of boredom, as every mother knows, is distraction. My basement treadmill faces a TV. But oftentimes in those early years, Nina would watch Sponge Bob while I ran, so I plugged headphones into our iPad, which had the dual purpose of covering the treadmill display, so I couldn’t see just how little I had run.
I came to prefer watching on the iPad, even on early mornings when I ran before Nina woke up, and even, dare I say, came to look forward to it (okay, not really, but almost, and that counts, right?). Motivation was allowing myself to watch episodes of Girls or Orange Is the New Black or Downton Abbey only on the treadmill.
2. Music
BF Rick runs on a treadmill at the Y, and his survival strategy is to have sports on the treadmill console TV, sound off—any sport with lots of movement, he says, basketball is best. He listens to music through headphones. Double down distraction.
The “ideal” pace for music while running is 160 to 180 beats per minute. Or whatever moves you.
Chris Clark, then a 37-year-old mom of two in Alaska, qualified for the 2000 Sydney Olympics doing ALL HER RUNS ON THE TREADMILL.
3. Workouts
Take your normal, regular run outside, one that makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something but that hasn’t leveled you—whether that’s 2 miles or 6 miles—at your normal I’ve-got-this pace, whether that’s 10 or 15 minutes per mile.
Now put that same run at the same pace on a treadmill and O.M.G. It takes for-EVER. And this may just be me and my brain, but my “easy” pace outside feels SO much harder on the treadmill.
The fix for this is NOT to do the same runs inside as you would outside. If at all possible, save your long runs for the days when someone can watch your kids.
Change it up. For instance, you might warm up at an easy pace for 5 to 10 minutes, then speed up the pace one click for one minute for however long and fast you can stand, then click back down. Or you could run one or two minutes per mile faster for a minute or three, then go back to easy pace. You can use this trick with the incline too—ticking up by 1% every minute. The possibilities are endless, and you can easily fool yourself into running 20-30 minutes, which is all you really need for a decent workout.
Of course, you can run long if you want to or you must. Chris Clark, then a 37-year-old pathologist with two kids under the age of 10, qualified for the 2000 Sydney Olympics doing ALL of her runs on her treadmill in her home in Anchorage, Alaska.
Need ideas, specifics? Mother Runners chimed in with their treadmill workouts here. Lisa Rainsberger, 1985 Boston Marathon champ, who used the treadmill to train through Michigan winters offers designed four challenging workouts for Runner’s World to increase speed, build strength, burn fat and crush hills.
[Download Another Mother Runner’s Five Sanity-Saving Treadmill Workouts]
4. Some physical considerations
On the treadmill, you are not facing the same wind resistance you do when you run outside. This means SWEAT. A big fan helps. A hand towel is useful.
Coaches and physiologists will tell you that you should set the incline at 1 percent to offset the absent wind resistance. This is (obviously) more important if you are training frequently on the treadmill with intent for a serious goal.
Also: Because the treadmill is moving and always straight ahead, you’re not pushing off in the same way you do on ground and your footfall is pretty much always the same. The lack of micro-movements affects your biomechanics; your calf muscles might feel a little wonky.
I sometimes fantasize about getting rid of the treadmill, now that daughter Nina is 14. But then we have a storm like this weekend’s, where snow and rain were followed by a flash freeze. I’ll run in snow, but ice is an obvious no-go zone. You know what that means: Time to find something to look forward to watching on Netflix …
IF YOU RUN ON THE TREADMILL, HOW DO YOU KEEP IT LIVELY?
[[ALTERNATIVELY: NAME SOMETHING MORE BORING THAN RUNNING ON THE TREADMILL …
*Note: Shame-free, another-mother-runner-supportive zone.]]
#347: Helping the Homeless Through Running
Training For My First Marathon: That Little Something Extra
Push-ups on a run? Don’t mind if I do.
[Follow—and cheer for—Pam, a #motherrunner of two in Decatur, Georgia, as she trains for her first marathon. Check out previous entries.]
Over the past month, I’ve whined about how boring long runs can be, and I’ve told you all about my head-on collision with imposter syndrome. It is an inescapable truth that marathon training presents regular physical and mental challenges; however, I’ve also found unexpected nuggets of joy—that little something extra–throughout the process.
LITTLE SOMETHING EXTRA #1: RUNNING THE DAY AFTER A LONG RUN
Throughout the entirety of my structured running career, beginning with Hal Higdon’s novice half marathon plan in 2015, I’ve rested the day after my long run. I take my rest days seriously, friends: there’s a reason R-E-S-T and R-E-A-R are nearly identical (even the S and A are neighbors on the keyboard, as are T and R—coincidence? I think not). Not so on Coach Amanda’s Go the Distance plan!
Some weeks the day after a long run is a “fun workout”: Usually that means a short trainer ride for me, made fun by listening to Wooden Overcoats, a phenomenal British radio-serial-style podcast recommended by Adrienne Martini. Other weeks, it’s an easy 3-mile recovery run. I keep it nice and slow, usually somewhere in the 12:30-13:30 pace range. An easy workout the day after a long run has a way of working out the kinks and leeching out the remaining bits of lactic acid.
Legs up the wall after a run: Extra and extra lovely feeling!
But the best part? By the time I wake up the next morning, my body is fully primed for an entire day of sitting on my rear. Nothing hurts! I don’t feel remotely like I’ve covered a total of 21 miles over the past two days. Whatever sorcery—and something extra—this may be, I’ll take it!
LITTLE SOMETHING EXTRA #2: THE CIRCUIT RUN
Another happy extra surprise gift of marathon training with Coach Amanda is the circuit run. This appears periodically, sometimes the day after a long run, sometimes the day before, and it is a seriously fun workout on a number of levels.
What is a circuit run, you may ask? If you’ve ever visited a playground or park that has been around for a few decades, you may have noticed stations set at regular intervals designed for specific exercises: monkey bars, pull-up bar, resistance machines. The idea is that you run, then stop and do an exercise, then run, then exercise, rinse and repeat.
These circuit runs don’t require any special equipment; instead, you warm up with a 5-10 minute run, then drop for a minute of push-up, run for a minute, then do squats for a minute, and so forth. I love that the circuit run mixes strength work organically into a run. I love how in tune I am with a particular set of muscles for the run after each exercise. For example, doing push-ups mid-run helps me focus on using my transversus abdominis in conjunction with my other core muscles. Squats help me get those glutes firing.
Also, dropping for a minute’s worth of push-ups in the middle of the sidewalk, then getting back up to run, makes me feel like a total badass.
LITTLE SOMETHING EXTRA #3: My favorite on-the-run bathroom in Atlanta: self-cleaning, has toilet paper, soap, and water. It’s like being in Europe–and it’s free!
LITTLE SOMETHING EXTRA #4: ESPRESSO LOVE
Prior to my first 18-miler, I finally acknowledged it was time to jump onto the fueling bandwagon in a big way. Apart from the occasional nibble of a Picky Bar, I’ve entirely avoided mid-run fuel. I never felt any need to fuel training for or racing a half marathon. But it occurred to me that perhaps part of the reason I was dragging the previous week was that maybe my body was crying out for some sustenance.
Despite their popularity, energy gels, cubes, jelly beans, and running gum (anyone else worried about the latter being a choking hazard, or is it just me?) have always freaked me out on a visceral level. While I recognize intellectually their form allows the body to absorb necessary nutrients and electrolytes and whatever else without expending significant energy to do so, I think some part of me assumed they would affect me like the entire pan of red Jell-O my 10-year-old self consumed one fateful night. (Any guesses what kind of bowl I spent the remainder of the night hanging my head over?)
In the end, the fear of hitting the nutritional wall overruled my objections, and I decided to take my friend Jane’s advice and down a GU every five miles. When my Garmin beeped at the end of the first interval, I took a deep breath, tore into an Espresso Love packet of GU—and OMG why did nobody tell me it tastes like raw brownie batter and chocolate icing had a baby?! The GU tasted amazing, felt pretty good going down, and put an extra pep in my step. I was pretty excited when my trusty Garmin indicated it was time for another GU (Vanilla Bean—not as yummy, but certainly edible), and then another (Chocolate Outrage—a true sibling to Espresso Love in every way that counts).
I knew marathon training would be difficult and therefore rewarding. I expected to be giddy, if exhausted. But discovering new sources of joy in the form of cobweb-clearing runs, circuit training, and brownie batter love child fuel? Loving that little extra—or, for those of you in the Cajun know, lagniappe!
WHAT LITTLE EXTRAS ARE MAKING YOU SMILE ON YOUR RUNS LATELY?
What Would Another Mother Runner Do: The Blister Edition
Gail, on the left, just finished the Dopey challenge with BRF Kimberly. No word on how long those post-race margaritas lasted in the hot Florida sun.
In this occasional column What Would Another Mother Runner Do (WWARMD), Gail, a mother runner to “two rowdy but well-loved pooches,” wonders what Another Mother Runner would do when faced with a blister at mile ten of a half marathon.
Gail writes:
I was running the Space Coast half marathon on the new North (i.e. less supported) course. Around mile 8, I felt a bit of burning in my foot but there was no first aid in sight. I found first aid around mile 9, where I stopped, got band-aids/tape but it was too far gone at that point — and stopping and taking off my shoes/socks that far into the race was probably a mistake. I poked the bear.
Going into the race, I’d had zero problems with blisters. But I had just moved from Tucson, Arizona, where there is ZERO humidity to Vero Beach, Florida, where it’s a walking shower it’s so humid. My dainty little feet had NOT gotten used to being all sweaty.
I had new-ish shoes, but of a variety I generally run in and l like without issues. I’ve literally unboxed versions of this shoe and run a full without issues. So dainty, sweaty feet were the culprit.
About another half-mile in, I knew I couldn’t keep running with shoes on. So I had a choice: run the last three miles barefoot or wait for the sag wagon to catch up to me.
What would Dimity and Sarah do?
Dimity says: I do not have dainty feet. But I do have sweaty feet, which have seen plenty of bloody runs caused by blisters.
I don’t know if there’s a difference between blister formed in humidity (not a ton of experience there) versus a blister formed in dry air (plenty of experience), but I think I would’ve kept my shoes on and kept going. I know that sounds a little masochistic, but I grew up on a gravel road, which my bare feet traversed all day long to play Kick the Can and such; and these days, I regularly perform DIY surgery with hot safety pins on unruly toenails. I also have crazy high arches, and the idea of running barefoot feels like it would hurt more than blisters.
What Sarah says: Running barefoot: NOT an option. If she thinks a blister hurts, she’d be heading for deep, dark pain cave running barefoot three miles with no previous “seasoning” of her feet. Talk about tenderfoot! Plus, I’d worry about stepping on glass or a piece of metal, then being sidelined for weeks, waiting for that more-serious injury to heal.
I don’t think she only had two options — barefoot or SAG wagon. I would go for Plan C (also known as the “Suck It Up, Buttercup!” route): Put your socks and shoe back on, and hoof it to the finish line. Yes, it would be highly uncomfortable, but on the pain-scale of 1 to 10, it doesn’t rank that high, IMHO. I set my marathon PR with the most MASSIVE blister on my right toe. (It was so big, it really deserved its own race bib!) Sometimes having one specific pain–like a blister–to focus your attention on, you can overlook the discomfort of gutting out the final 5K of a half-marathon!
What Gail did:
Instagram tells the tale.
“I hobbled along for about another half mile and found a lovely cement garden bench outside someone’s house. Sat my butt down, took off my shoes and socks, and ran the last three miles carrying my shoes. I ended up finishing just a few minutes less than what I anticipated I would with shoes. Not bad when you consider first aid and shoe removal stops!”
What would you have done, #motherrunner?
AMR Aid Station: Solutions for a Runny Nose While Running
On this installment of the AMR Aid Station, Tish Hamilton answers the important question WHY does my nose always run when I run?
My nose starts running pretty much as soon as the weather turns cold (November-ish in New Jersey), and doesn’t stop until summer.
My nose runs when I’m running. It runs when I’m not running. It runs when I go from running to not running, which is to say, come inside. There’s a box of tissues by the door, always. There are tissues in the pockets of every coat, jacket and hoodie I own. Often I forget to empty pockets before washing, and when swapping clothes out to the dryer discover tenacious little bits of tissue clinging to wet tights and sports bras. Dang!
(Tissues in the laundry is not as catastrophic, however, as discovering in wet post-wash clothes an iPod loaded with 4 hours of carefully curated 180 BPM marathon tunes—which I have done TWICE. Wah!)
Dogs wear sweaters when temps stay below 30 degrees all day.
I don’t have a cold or the flu or allergies. So WHY does my nose always run when I run?
It’s a thing (of course it is!) and it’s been studied (of course it has!).
“Exercise-induced rhinitis, predominantly rhinorrhea, commonly occurs in athletes regardless of underlying nasal allergy,” researchers from the Allergy, Asthma & Immunology Clinic of Colorado reported in a study published in the Annals of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology. In their study, 56% of endurance athletes experienced rhinorrhea when exercising outdoors; as did 71% of athletes with allergies.
In layman’s terms what that means is, for many athletes—not just runners but cyclists, skiers and figure skaters—their noses run when they exercise, often a lot (rhinorrhea). Ohhhhh.
Curiously, working out inside was almost as bad: 69% of allergy-sufferers reported runny noses; as did 53% of non-allergy sufferers.
Causes include allergies, weather, air pollution and stress, which increases blood flow to the nose, which makes it run, as does running.
So how do we deal? Sarah—who asked about this TMI topic on Another Mother Runner’s FB page—confesses she is all about the farmer’s blow, a k a the snot rocket.
Many, many mothers chimed in to confirm the merits of the snot rocket. (Can we call it snocket?)
“Let it blow, let it blow,” as Walisa Dickson said.
Becky Nipper: “Majority snot rocket, and residual drips on sleeves or gloves. I taught my 7-year-old last week. Proud moment.”
My BRF, a k a Fast Teacher Friend, who was battling a head cold last week, turned her head discreetly away from me and executed a perfect farmer’s blow without missing a step. “Sorry,” she said.
No apologies necessary! We are runners, we are mothers: Snot ranks very low on the gross-o-meter.
That said, many of us—including me—are incapable of snocketing. We just wipe our noses on our gloves, sleeves, inside of collars or hems of shirts.
Jess Paden, a professed snot rocketer, says, “I always buy gloves with soft backs, just in case there are hangers-on.”
Yes, I had to take the mitten off—with my teeth—to do a mid-run selfie.
Manufacturers KNOW we are doing this, and make design accommodations accordingly.
A recent favorite glove in Another Mother Runner’s Gear column — UnderArmour Storm Run Liner — has an “extra soft Speedwipe fleece on the back of index finger and thumb,” and while they don’t say WHY, you can figure it out.
Many mothers have ingenious solutions to the runny nose problem.
Rachel Svenkeson: “I usually carry tissues up my sleeves.”
“I cut off the end of old socks and wear them on my wrist to wipe my nose,” says Cindy Russell.
Katey Wilbur uses cut-up old T-shirts.
Patty Bolduc takes a bandanna on every run and notes that it is also useful for wiping sweat, swatting bees or using as an emergency bandage should she fall and bleed. Further proof that mothers are the most resourceful people on the planet.
And there are products that (more or less) were designed for this purpose.
Susan Landolt deals with snot with a Buff wrapped around her wrist.
Catherine Sowa uses a Handana, which is exactly what it sounds like. Genius!
Sarah Purk uses Snittens, which promises to absorb “28x its weight in snot and tears!” Say the makers: “We measured!”
Belinda D Pape Traber never runs without her Runningluv, a towel that wraps around your hand or wrist.
Misty Currier uses a sQoosh. “More than a sweatband.”
Personally, when temperatures dip below 35, I wear soft mittens. My fingers and thumb need to huddle together in warm fleece like Laura, Mary, Carrie, Ma and Pa in The Long Winter, wondering if Almanzo and Cap Garland are going to make it back through the blinding blizzard with wheat to feed the starving townspeople. Plus, mittens are soft on the nose.
What my fingers feel like when I insist on running in temps below 20: Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “The Long Winter,” will we ever be warm again ever?
Wondering HOW exactly to do the Farmer’s Blow?
Mark Remy, creator of Dumbrunner.com, explains how—managing not to crack up for a full five minutes—in a video adapted from his (hilarious) The Runner’s Rule book: “Lay a forefinger against one nostril and compress firmly… Cock your head slightly in the direction of the open nose and exhale forcefully through your nose. Repeat with opposite nostril.” Important note: Make sure no other runner is in a 3 to 4-foot “blast radius.” Mark notes that, like anything, practice makes perfect.
DOES YOUR NOSE RUN WHEN YOU RUN? HOW DO YOU DEAL?
#346: Pro Runner Neely Gracey Shares Marathon Tips + Post-Partum Advice
Sarah and co-host Amanda Loudin share a sit-down with professional runner Neely Gracey, who’s also a running coach and mother of a 5-month-old baby. Neely, the top American woman in her debut marathon (Boston 2016), talks about playing the long game, laying out her five-year plan that includes the next two Olympic Marathon Trials.
With refreshing candor, Neely details her fitness endeavors while pregnant, providing value lessons for any sidelined runner. Dismissing the notion of “balance,” Neely shares her fresh mental approach to the juggling act of parenting, running, work, and other life elements. Smile as she talks about how grateful she is for her neighborhood mom friends. Find out why this mother runner bailed on a recent core workout.
Coach Neely speaks personally and professionally about the value of slow consistency, allowing you to see progress with every run. She also imparts solid wisdom about marathon training.
In the intro, SBS shares some sad news about her family’s cat, Miller. Neely joins the show at 11:53 (and Amanda has to duck out of the convo about halfway through).
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