We Carry On: Team BAMR Takes on Seneca 7 (Sorta)
If this were a normal spring, Sunday would see seven BAMRs cramming themselves into a van to run the Seneca 7 relay. Alas.
When the whole pandemic started to pick up steam back in mid-March, it looked like the race might be able to go on. After all, it would be run in late April. Surely by then we’ll have figured out all of this COVID-19 stuff?
Yeah, I’m laughing, too. And, to be honest, crying a little bit as well.
Runner 1: Heather in Ohio
But we make do. The race organizers came up with a plan to offer a virtual version of their annual 77.7 mile race around Seneca Lake. Each runner would still run three legs but could do them whenever they wanted, as long as they hit the right mileage and made at least some attempt to match the elevation profile. The times would be officially recorded and displayed. So it would kind of be like the race and yet nothing at all like one.
Runner 2: Adrienne in New York State
I mean, is it really the Seneca 7 if you aren’t half-frozen, running from dawn to dusk, raiding the Wegman’s, and swinging a cowbell? No. No, it isn’t.
Runner 3: Phoebe in New Hampshire, where she found a windsock version of our team mascot: the flamingo.
Still, I figured I could hew to the spirit of the event, at least, and chose to do my first two legs when I knew it would be just above freezing and raining. We decided to run our third legs consecutively on Saturday, April 18, and hand off via text, if only to replicate the experience of prepping to run, waiting for the runner before you, and gauging if you should pee one last time before she gets there. As Seneca 7 luck would have it, Saturday dawned with warnings of 3-5 inches of snow in my neck of the woods, almost like the weather gods knew what I was up to. Perfect.
Runner 4: Amy in New Jersey shaped her leg to look like our team mascot, if you squint a little.
The team has morphed over the years. While Marianne, Lisa, Amy H., and I keep signing up for this beautiful punishment, the other three spots have remained fluid, because life sometimes makes other plans for you. The team just isn’t the same without Amy B., Carol, Tanja, and Melissa but we know that “team” is a state of mind as well as a physical thing.
Runner 5: Lisa in New Hampshire
This year, Heather and Shannon came back into the flock. We welcomed the fledging Phoebe, who was a last minute addition and who, someday, will get to do the race in reality.
Runner 6: Marianne in New Jersey
And so we set out on Saturday, separately but together. I did what I tend to do, which is underestimate how fast others run. When Heather handed-off, I was sill in my jammies. After my snowy four miles, I stripped out of my wet shoes and socks and watched the rest of the action on my phone.
Runner 7: Shannon, Marianne’s neighbor, closed it out with panache.
Once we logged all of our miles, we met up for a ZOOM call to toast our success and hope for a return to the lake in 2021. Maybe that will be the year that the weather is perfect.
#412: A Deep Dive About Swimming
Sarah and Dimity jump into a conversation with Bonnie Tsui, an avid swimmer and surfer and author of a new book entitled Why We Swim. The water-loving trio talks about:
-the brain-wave-changing effects of swimming;
-advice for adults who want to learn to swim or be comfortable around water;
-practical breathing tips;
-the ins-and-outs of Masters swimming; and,
-the pure joy of swimming!
Funny cake tales from the duo in the intro chitchat; the guest hops in at 17:01.
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Support Our Sport: Easy Ways to Help Endurance Sports During COVID-19
Even though running is experiencing a healthy boom in participants, the COVID pandemic has crept into the crevices of our beloved sport. We all need to help endurance sports.
Many running-related businesses, including races, fall under the “small business” umbrella, and their fate is as unsure as any other business these days.
With that in mind, we asked you and the races and brands we’ve worked with over the years how to best support all aspects our sport. Not surprisingly, you didn’t disappoint; we all want to be sure our sport stays as solid as your quads and vibrant as that finish-line feeling.
Below are a range of ideas from scavenger hunts to soothing skin creams. Check them out, and let us know in the comments below if we’ve missed any ways to help endurance sports. We’ll continue to add to this post until we are all back and running strong.
- Not sure what shoe to buy? Give them a call and talk through your running history + shoe preferences. They can face time you with options.
- Remember that sports nutrition has an expiration date, so if your running fuel shelf is empty, buy off of their shelves.
- Many running stores are offering curbside pickups or even super cool bike delivery. Speaking of bikes, many bike shops are offering tune-ups and purchases, so reach out for help with wheels.
- Buy gift cards or make future appointments with massage therapists, physical therapists, chiropractors, other care-givers.
- Consider buying gift cards or otherwise supporting local running store employees who may be furloughed or out of work right now.
- Follow local stores, nearby races, and running clubs on social media to see the cool scavenger hunts, challenges and races you can do that help with COVID or other worthy charities:
- Here are a few suggestions:
Twin Cities in Motion: Run For All: April 24-26
Charm City Run (Maryland) Live Give Run Virtual Race Challenge: Through April 30
Boston Bulldogs Run for Recovery Virtual 5K: May 14-16
#Climb4Community Challenge in Pacific Northwest: Through June 11
Team Quarantine in Lander, Wyoming: Through May 3
- The Endurance Sports Coalition, a combination of running, cycling, triathlon and other endurance events, creates one united voice for the endurance sports industry, which accounts for 50,000 events annually, 500,000 jobs, and provides health and fitness experiences to 30 million Americans. Sign the petition to ask, “Congress and the White House to consider extending payroll protection programs and additional business survival grants” and/or write to your congressperson: Take action here.
- Many races are non-profit and run by a skeleton staff—and plenty of volunteers. Add in the fact that it can take over a year to organize an event (permits, law enforcement, street closures, start + finish line features, aid stations, etc.), and it’s abundantly clear: Nobody who wants a race to go on more than a race director. Before you aim your frustration about your race being canceled at the person who had to make the rough decision, step back and put yourself in his or her shoes.
- If your race is canceled and you are are given the choice of a refund or contribution, pick the latter. This will help keep the race going so you can enjoy it next year.
- Extra points for making somebody laugh.
- Yep.
- Head to Nuun for a variety of hydration options, including Nuun Sport + (especially helpful) Nuun Rest.
- Update your sports bras—and leggings and tops—with adorable + supportive Handful Gear.
- Want more? Check out this Warehouse Blow Out Sale, which has a bunch of great deals, especially if you are an XS!
- Your chapped hands and your wrinkles around your eyes (who me?) will thank you for this gem from Nature’s Gem.
- Now’s an ideal time to destink all your Lycra—and your kids sporting equipment with Win Sports Detergent; grab the deal here on Amazon.
- Put some bounce in your step—and donate to the World Health Organization—with some fresh Balega socks.
- Grab a new springy pair of kicks—and save some serious bucks—at Topo Athletic, shoes made for the form of your foot.
- Check out your mobility and movement patterns with this series of self-analyzing videos that help you discover your underlying mobility and stability imbalances, and then show you how to correct them and apply them to your running form.
- The Superhero in Scrubs Bibboards are not only adorable, they also pin your mask, no ears needed. (Ear fatigue is real.)
#411: Navigating Running-related Relationship Road Bumps
Sarah and Katie talk with Cory Nyamora, a clinical psychologist and a triathlon/running coach, about running-related conflicts that can arise in relationships. Responding to real-life questions posted on the AMR Facebook page, Cory discusses:
- the importance of partners having space and time to pursue passions;
- how to get a partner to take an interest in your running;
- equality in a relationship; and,
- how open, frequent communication can solve myriad issues.
In the introduction, Katie shares her exercise streak, and the two hosts detail how running blends with their respective relationships. (Twice-married Sarah gets to compare and contrast!) The guest joins the show at 17:06.
Finding Our COVID Silver Linings
This is hard.
You’d think that being safer-at-home would be a breeze. You’re surrounded by your family, pets, and hobbies all of the time. There’s no where to go and no one to see. All you need to do is chill.
Ha.
Instead, we’re distance learning and teleworking or, if we’re essential, figuring out childcare while we’re away. It’s nearly impossible to find a moment to yourself, because you have been in this same home for weeks with these same people who are always with you. To say nothing about the near-constant dread about getting ill or being unemployed.
There’s a lot that is a struggle right now. But there are also odd and unexpected joys.
For me — this is Adrienne — I’ve been loving the feeling of not having to rush all of the time. If I want to run in the late morning and do some work in my jammies before I go, I totally can. And when I get back, I don’t have to immediately do the world’s fastest shower to make it to my office. Everything will eventually happen, mind, but there’s no specific timetable. And that is lovely.
Here’s some of the other silver linings the greater AMR Team has found.
I’ve enjoyed watching my kids come together to play, imagine, and learn in brilliant moments of cooperation and creativity. It’s given me hope that my biggest fear (I’m failing as a parent) is only a story I tell myself as I watch my children move through each day, curious and engaged. It’s given me reassurance that the small things (helping with yardwork, building a garden, walking in the woods) are more meaningful than the big things (vacations, eating out, trips to museums). —Train Like a Mother Triathlon and Heart + Sole Coach Liz
The great pause has afforded me and my family the opportunity to focus on what matters most to us; quality time together, adventuring outside (in the neighborhood only for now), and being silly. And movement. Now more than ever I appreciate the connection to so many areas of overall wellness that movement (running in particular) provides me on a daily basis. —Train Like a Mother Sports Psych Coach Justin
The Gilleys before dinner.
My college-aged kids are around now and have offered to make meals! Add in my chef-type hubby, and my responsibility for cooking dinner is now only 1 out of 4 nights. We are eating well and thankful for the time to enjoy home-cooked meals together as a family! — Melissa G., Another Mother Retreat coordinator
For me, it’s having both kids here with me and hearing/watching them connect. Whether it’s heading out for a run together, one sibling piercing the other’s ears (yes, this happened), or making goofy TikTok videos together, I am relishing the sights and sounds of my kids bonding. This was never time at home they wanted, but I am hopeful that there will be some good memories that emerge from their unexpected, extended time together. — Train Like a Mother Traditional Programs Coach Amanda
Everybody recovering from so.many.walks.
We joke that our dogs are on the Coronavirus Fitness program; they get walked (at least) twice a day by various family members so lots of fresh air for all of us. Both Mason and Banjo give the unconditional love and snuggles we all need right now, and Banjo, the two-year-old hound, provides lots of laughter. The latest shenanigan: getting into the Easter candy. We found him with his nose in a bag of Starburst jelly beans. He looked up, disregarded us, then kept snarfing them down. —Dimity
My 15-year-old and I take a midday break from work and school nearly every day to go for a 3-mile walk/run. Not that we’re all sunshine and happy chatter–usually she just grunts at me to cross the street when we see someone approaching. And yet and yet! Taking a midday 3-mile walk/run with 15-year-old daughter. What a gift. – Tish, AMR podcast co-host
I’m going to remember this season as the season of mundane magic. In other words, I am finding so much more joy in the mundane. A long slow walk, accomplishing a clean kitchen, or time to just be out on my back porch have a new sense of magic to them. — Train Like a Mother Nutrition Coach Ellie
This is the first time in my life that I’ve tried an exercise streak. I usually take 2-3 days off a week but not now – any excuse to get out of the house! I’ve either gone for a run or hopped on the Peloton every day for a little over a month now. I’m also trying to add in strength 3-4 days a week, which has always fallen by the wayside. Woo-hoo! P.S. One thing that is not going well? Homeschooling. I am not cut out for it! — Katie, AMR Director of Marketing
We’re sitting down as a family for dinner every night without the rush of evening activities to distract us. — Maggie, AMR Social Media Manager
Melissa (in gray sweater) and her Superhero clan.
My whole family (husband plus three high school or college age daughters) are all really into the Marvel movies. Me? Not so much. But they have taken on the project of bringing mom into the inner circle and we are watching the movies (marathon style, naturally) in the order they decide would be best for me to understand the story line. When I tossed an Ironman quote into a dinner convo their response was joyful, and I officially entered the Cool Kids club. I finally get their jokes and I kind of love having a new thing we can share.— Melissa T, Train Like a Mother Club Maven
I used to hate working out at home, but I have been able to do some killer strength training workouts with a couple of resistance bands that I snagged just before my gym closed. Not having a whole free weight room at my disposal has forced me to be creative. I may come out of this in better shape than before, despite not having access to a gym! Also: my ten-year-old is having piano lessons via Zoom, and I absolutely LOVE being able to listen in and hear the interaction between him and his teacher. They are both having a blast, and it’s so fun to hear. — Michelle, all-purpose BAMR
Sarah’s fam loving her cooking.
I am taking this time to get stronger. Since I have access, in my home, to bands, balls, workout equipment, I am spending more time stretching, doing Yoga and Mat Pilates, dryland strength and mobility work. Being at home more has afforded more time to spend on the little things that all add up to make me a better athlete. — Train Like a Mother Triathlon and Heart + Sole Coach Jen
My family members are expressing an unprecedented amount of gratitude toward dinners and treats I cook and bake, whether it’s a simple spaghetti dish or a carrot cake. As 18-year-old Phoebe summed up why: “Dinner is the only thing we have to look forward to these days.” — Sarah
I am really proud of my night time self-care routine. I’ve consistently taken my vitamins, supplements, and NUUN Rest and gone to bed at a decent time most evenings! — Heather, Train Like a Mother Club Manager\
Having my 19-year old youngest daughter at trapped at home has been wonderful. With no other children at home, and no access to her friends physically, I’m relishing getting to know her as a young adult. I’m sure she loves it as much as I do. – Molly, AMR podcast co-host
I’m sure that’s true, Molly. I know I’ve been loving all of this time with my kids, one of whom will (theoretically) start college in the fall. This time has been a treasure. For me.
So what are your COVID silver linings, BAMR?
Don’t Look Too Far Up the Road
A (much-needed) break. Grant says my new new Nuun kit makes me look “time-trialy”…a compliment, but I’m not sure speeds of 5.5 mph are allowed in time trials.
Like many spring events, the Ironhorse bike ride for which Grant, my husband, and I were training has been postponed for the fall.
Like many of you, we are continuing to train, albeit on a less compressed, regimented schedule.
Which is how I find myself on Saturday morning heading out of an empty parking lot in Golden, Colorado and into a feisty wind. I have a vague idea of our route—we’re climbing and going up Lookout Mountain—but I happily concede the navigator role to Grant.
Although I have ridden my bike regularly since doing Ironman in 2013, it has been with a cardio/injury-prevention focus, not a go-fast-go-hard training focus. And I’m not lying when I say I have not willingly climbed any hill more than two minutes long. My favorite route is basically flat, with <700 feet of climbing. Ironhorse has nearly 6,000 feet. I’ll do the math: that’s about 10 times more than I prefer to climb.
“Climb for five minutes, climb for 20 minutes, climb for 30 minutes,” Grant yells, describing the ride basics. The wind carries his message back. I nod and settle in.
Our first climb goes by fairly quickly: the exciting spark of a new long workout. “This will be perfect heading home,” Grant screams into the gust as I pull up beside him on the wide shoulder. Thank you, Mr. Brightside.
We hit a stoplight or two, then get to the next climb, the road that also houses the two entrances to Red Rocks Amphitheater. I’ve driven this road plenty, admiring its smooth pavement and generous shoulder from behind the steering wheel. Driving and cycling it are two very different things, of course, and today, we’re going in the uphill direction: 20 minutes, by Grant’s count.
About five minutes into it, I now have total recall the harshness of long cycling climbs. That fluid, tune-out feeling associated with most runs? Not happening. On the steepest inclines, I am in my easiest gear and still have to tap out the quadzillas for every crank of the pedal arm. On less steep inclines, the muscular effort isn’t as rough, but the cardio (huff) vasc (puff) ular (huff) demands skyrocket.
To get through rough spots in running, I count my footsteps. Not on the bike, though: counting pedal strokes just amplifies the effort. Instead, I give myself small targets. That Bud Light can on the side of the road. That reflective parking thing. That crack in the road. That weed that looks different than the others around it.
The markers aren’t meaningful, but they are twenty feet apart, max, which is key. Get to one, pick another, get to it, pick another, get to it, pick another, and for the love of all that is good in this world: Don’t look too far up the road.
Twenty-five minutes later, we’re two climbs down, one whopper to go. A few fun and flat miles on a bike path, and we arrive at the base of Lookout Mountain. I suck down a Cola Me Happy GU, take a swig of my Kona Cola Nuun (favorite flavor, don’t fail me now!). “Here goes nothing,” I think to myself, shifting into my easiest gear and head up.
I switch my GPS to the plain old time of day. I don’t want to know my heart rate, and I definitely don’t want to witness my speed. Every few minutes, between blowing into my hand and wiping it on my shorts, I pick out markers. That fence post, that large crack, that pine tree, pick another, get to it.
And because I’ve been a fitness-based writer for too long, I start thinking of this three-hump ride as a metaphor for the pandemic through which we’re currently rolling.
Even though the elements of the bike ride (wheels, road, chamois-lined shorts) and a typical day (meals, family, work) are familiar, they are assembled into a combination that throws me off-kilter at best, makes me nauseous at worst. Motions that should feel easy (pedaling, grocery storing) unconsciously suck my energy, making me feel powerless and exhausted. Time, formerly a reliable rooster, is now a sly fox. I can run faster than I’m pedaling, and what day is it again?
Even the vague markers of what this ride looks like—5 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes to top of Lookout, home—resemble the pliable dates when things might start their return to pre-COVID days. Especially when I realize, upon looking at the data post-ride, that the five-minute climb was actually 10, the 20 minute climb was 25, and that 30-minute climb? Yep, 45 long minutes.
We make it to the top of Lookout. Release, exhale, Hallelujah. Stop for another Cola Gu, slither on my arm warmers, and zip up my windbreaker. I arch my back to stretch out, thanking my legs and lower back for surviving three climbs and the hardest bike ride I’ve done in seven years.
Grant has been chivalrously riding behind me nearly the entire ride. Now I tell him, a much more confident descender, to go ahead and wait for me at stop lights. “Brake before the curves, not in them,” he says, sensing my nervousness. Pushed by the tailwind, I top out at 41 mph, every nerve ending in me vibrating. Psyched that I’m feathering—not gripping—my brakes. Then a guy with his chin aerodynamically tucked on his handlebar goes flying by me. I wonder where he gets his courage.
Ever since mid-March, the parts of the day—and ride—where I relax are minimal. Yes, I’m meditating; yes, I’m going to bed early (sleep is a different story); yes, I’m doing my best to keep my finger off the Twitter button. Even my Peanut M’n’M consumption is way down. Still, I’m either grinding or white knuckling, trying to stay present or tearing up about the wide wake of death COVID is creating—or sometimes all four at once.
Lightness and calm come most predictably when I remember look around: Red Rocks against a bluebird sky; a truck that stops and waits patiently when my dropped water bottle rolls into the road (and Grant turns around to get it for me); daffodils poking up in my garden as I return from the store.
We get back to the car, and I’m all badass on the bike. As we pull into the lot, Grant offers his last bit of commentary: “Do that ride one more time,” says Grant, “That’s Ironhorse.”
Stay in my easiest gear; pick attainable targets, pass, pick, pass, repeat for as long as necessary; and for the love of all that is good in this world: Don’t look too far up the road.