AMR Trains #26: Mobility for Runners with Dr. Erin Kling, PT, DPT
Range of motion, dynamic warm-ups, and tight muscles: Dimity chats all things mobility for runners with Dr. Erin Kling, who practices at The Running PT’s in Cary, North Carolina.
Erin tells us:
—How you can tell if you’re needing to work on your mobility;
—Why it’s good to have muscles that are a little stiff;
—Why aggressive stretching doesn’t help your running;
—And why your inner thigh muscles (adductors) are surprisingly tight.
She also recommends these moves from The Running PT’s YouTube Channel:
MOVES FOR THE HIP
JOINT MOBILIZATION
Superband hip mobilizations (varying postures)
Superband child’s pose
Superband anterior hip mobilization
STRETCHES
Hip 90/90
Hamstring doorway stretch
Prone quad stretch
MOVES FOR THE ANKLE
JOINT MOBILIZATION
Kneeling self ankle mobilization
YOGA FLOW
Upright happy baby
Downward dog
STRETCHES
Wall calf stretch
Knee to wall stretch
See where you can go with a NordicTrack treadmill with iFit: Visit NordicTrack.com
Ready for more Training? Steaming hot episodes served up here.
Meet Beth Probst: A New Writer For Another Mother Runner
You may already be familiar with Beth Probst, as she was on our podcast recently. Listen in here.
This first blog post is an opportunity to introduce myself. That’s a big ask. But here’s what I think you should know. I’m a married, 42-year-old mom of a 7-year old boy named Jake, a mutt named Joey and a rescue cat named Lucky.
I hate the act of running but loves calling myself a runner. I’m a very stubborn Finlander who regularly uses the word sisu when talking about the why behind things I do. Please note, there is a fine line between stubborn and stupid but when you attribute stuff to your inner sisu you can justify just about anything.
I’m an active person who has battled the scale much of her adult life. You know that saying, you cannot outrun food? Yeah I’m living proof of that. Combined, these things make me a very mediocre runner who cannot and will not quit showing up at starting lines even if it means finishing in the back of the pack. Every. Single. Time. Especially if there is a medal and some serious swag.
Early last year, I set some serious running plans and dreams. I was going to clear a 3-hour half-marathon—the one and only running goal I’ve ever set; ten years and 12+ half marathons in, I have still not accomplished it—and write a book about it. I even went to this huge personal development conference by myself in January where I stood with 10,000 other women and set my intentions and danced to Beyonce. (P.S. I’m a huge introvert, so this was a really HUGE deal.)
Anyways, I started training and writing the book. And then March hit and we all know how this story ends…my running dreams were shattered. I know not everyone will get this but I genuinely believe that if you run a virtual race and nobody sees you, it does not count.
So I shelved my shoes and self-published a book instead. It is all about why I hate running but keep showing up anyway and includes some tips and tactics for other gals like me who just want to have fun.
There were just two problems with this situation. First, I had always figured my closing chapter would be about me hitting my big PR of a sub 3-hour half-marathon. Yeah. That didn’t happen.
Second, I must admit, I felt a bit like a fraud publishing a book about running when I hadn’t run in 8 months. I could have easily gotten over that except for one thing: that stupid running bug. (Plus, close-out shoe sales, but that’s another post). When the clock struck 12 and we ushered in 2021, I found myself itching to train. And so here we are.
I’m now a 42-year-old who has returned to the treadmill to start training for a half-marathon that “may” happen on May 1. If it doesn’t, I’ll find another one somewhere because once I start training, there is no turning back. See above reference having a lot of sisu.
I reside in the United States of Polar Vortex, aka Wisconsin, next to the world’s largest ice box, aka Lake Superior. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, except that I don’t like going outside when it is cold… so the treadmill and I have a standing date for the next few months. I’ve also invited Tim Riggins (for those of you living under a rock, that’d be the teenage heartthrob series from a decade or two ago called Friday Night Lights) to join me.
This situation, combined with some new socks, a lifetime supply of Nuun, and a massage gun and I’m like 50% recommitted to taking my running and goal seriously.
I look forward to sharing more of my running highs and lows in the coming months, if for no other reason than to let you know, there is a runner slower and less motivated than you, and somehow I manage to keep showing up and actually enjoying myself. If I can do it, so can you. All you need to do is find your inner sisu and give yourself some grace.
If you are interested in reading more about my journey, please consider checking out my book. It can be purchased on Amazon. Or, if you love a discount, purchase here and include discount code AMR2021 at check-out to get 20% off.
Run With Your Partner? No Thanks.
Dimity rewinds a few years to remember why running with your partner isn’t always ideal.
If your marriage is anything like mine, date nights are few and far between. While I know all reasons to make them a priority, our current reality is this: We spend most of our weekday evenings shuffling kids to activities so time is tight, and our budget can be tighter.
Which leaves running together, right? We’re both runners, so a few miles together fresh air, quality time and endorphins in one free, accessible package. What’s not to love?
Um, me running with my husband, Grant.
We have run together twice in our 20+ years of marriage. The first time was about 17 years ago. We were on a trail in Santa Fe, and I mostly remember being annoyed. Annoyed he didn’t talk with me the way my girlfriends did, annoyed he was barely breathing and I was huffing and puffing, annoyed that it wasn’t the isn’t-life-grand-and-aren’t-we-great-together moment I wanted it to be.
He, of course, saw nothing wrong with the run. Thought it was immensely enjoyable, actually.
We waited for about another decade to try it again. The 2012 Austin Half-Marathon fell on Valentine’s Day (the irony!). We didn’t talk strategy, pre-race. All he knew is that I was gunning for a sub-1:50, and all I knew is that he could run that pace easily. So he voluntarily “paced” me for a few miles.
Grant’s version of pacing: running about 15 steps in front of me, and then slowing down until I caught up, and then taking off again. Again, none of that chitchat I’d always imagined we’d have—or at least an “atta girl!” I’d expect when going for a challenging PR.
Around mile 3, I tried to keep calm. “I love you,” I blurted as he slowed down to moonwalk back to me, “but I don’t want to see you anymore right now.”
Off he went.
Guess what? He had a great race, and it took me until mile 10, at least, to get over him—and myself.
Needless to say, I’ve learned my lesson. We’re compatible in many ways, but running is not one of them. That’s not to say that logging miles with a partner is impossible, but it’s like teaching your kids a sport: The situation has the potential to blow up if you don’t apply the right dose of love and motivation.
If I were to try it again, here are some tips I’d follow:
Before you head out, make a plan. In other words, do that thing that marriage counselors advise: Communicate.
Questions to be asked/discussed: How far are you/we going? What kind of run are you/we planning on doing: easy, moderate, tempo, hard? Who is setting the pace? Pushing the stroller? Pushing the stroller up all hills? Are you bringing music? Will there be any racing each other involved?
Let’s back up to who is setting the pace question. If your partner is male, men have this irritating hormone called testosterone that allows them to go faster with less effort than those of us who must wear sports bras. And, as might know, said male hormone usually allows them to leap off the couch and run faster than us, even if you’ve been training for a marathon for months. They get to run fast, we get to bleed monthly. (Um, almost fair?)
In other words, unless your partner is truly a new, new runner that has no ego at all, agree that you will set the pace.
If need be, show him simple comparison chart:
| If your effort is… | His effort will be… |
| Easy | Easy |
| Moderate | Easy |
| Tempo | Easy |
| Hard | Easy-ish |
| Legs.are.falling.off. | This side of easy |
| Lungs.are.burning. | One step above easy |
| Must.puke.now. | Moderate |
Once you’ve settled on a pace setter, update your expectations about the social level of the run. You can usually hear two (chatting, laughing) women coming from half of a mile away. Meanwhile, I’ve passed packs of male runners, and my music was louder than all the collective noise coming from them. Unless your partner is crazy talkative, you are likely going to have a run that filled with more silence than conversation.
If the conversation does start to flow, keep your heart rate low and good vibes flowing by treading lightly on delicate subjects. Probably not the time to discuss your tricky ovulation cycle or the family budget or your mother-in-law’s latest chide.
If running side by side feels like it could cause a rift too big to leap over, here are two options:
First, go to a track and get it done there. If you opt to do a speed workout, begin your intervals 45 seconds, say, after he starts his so there’s no racing and no bragging rights at stake.
Or make it a two-part date: the first part, you get sweaty alone. Do an out-and-back run at your own paces for, say, 45 minutes, then grab an easy dinner where you enjoy each other’s company. And then your combined endorphins will prompt you to get sweaty together. (And everybody wins!)
Finally, compliment copiously on the whole situation. Who doesn’t like to hear their partner tell you, “Your glutes look awesome in those capris?” Be sure to return the favor.
Grant and I completed a version of the last tip in 2014, to celebrate our 14th anniversary; we took a road trip to Steamboat to run the half-marathon. We grabbed our bibs, then a carb-heavy dinner. The next morning, we snapped a few pics at the starting line, kissed each other good luck, and I watched his skinny ankles (which I adore, btw) take off within seconds of the gun going off.
Not surprisingly, he was waiting for me at the finish; I was dashing in to get in just under two hours. “You finished so strong,” he said, giving me a hug while simultaneously allowing me to collapse in his arms.
Then we chatted (a generous term) about our races, and walked back to the car, hand-in-hand.
AMR Answers #60: Cold-Weather Cell Phone Tips; First 50k Advice
Sarah and Dimity dive into:
-counseling Katie on caring for her iPhone on frigid runs;
-encouraging Britt to take on the 50K she’s contemplating; and,
-telling Jennifer there are no rules about long weekend runs
with no race in sight.
Discover the myriad benefits of CBD: Get one of several weekly deals, including 18% off any CBD oil, at NaturesGemCBD.com/amr
Got more questions? We have answers. Subscribe and listen.
A Love Letter to my Thighs
by Heather Reed
Dear Thighs,
We both know our relationship has been bumpy, but it didn’t start out that way.
My elementary school colt legs propelled me across the playground when my classmates shouted, “Red Rover Red Rover send Heather right over!” You helped me fancy skip just like Dorothy, hopscotch summer days away, and propel my bike up any hill I decided to climb.
Even then, I must have sensed that our narrative would change. I remember watching my mom getting ready one morning when I was around seven or eight. Noticing the differences between my girl body and her woman body, I asked her why her thighs were so soft and squishy. Kids love to put moms in their place, I now know all too well. Thinking on her feet, she told me “So that when babies are born, there is a soft place for them to land!” Nice catch, Mom!
I was satisfied with that answer for a while; all newborns should get such a cozy welcome, right?
But then puberty came, and you started getting larger and softer. I didn’t recognize you, and wanted to hide you, but that wasn’t what everyone else was doing. Sporty, strong girls wore Umbros. The cool girls? Guess jean shorts. I wasn’t sporty, so jean shorts it was – but I felt uncomfortable. You made me feel awkward. You were squishier than my friends’ thighs. Ugh.
Grunge to the rescue. According to Wikipedia, Grunge style was “often worn in a loose, androgynous manner to de-emphasize the silhouette.” PERFECT! Covering my teen thighs that (GASP!) had cellulite on them under my oversized Levis was the perfect way to both manage the shame I felt about you and magically be in style.
Around age fourteen, I put you in hiding, where I was confident you belonged. Queue the nearly decade-long era where you rarely saw the light of day. I had a strict no shorts policy, even during hot, humid South Dakota summers. Pools and beaches were strategically avoided at all costs.
Even when my church youth group went on a mission trip to Mexico in July, I kept you covered. The no-shorts rule firmly in force. But I remember the anxiety I felt when our group took a day off and went to the beach. A swimsuit was in order; there was no way to avoid it. Even though I had strategically chosen a one-piece suit with full bottom coverage, you, my thighs, were still 100% exposed (in 1997 swim shorts for girls were not a thing). Instead of enjoying the ocean, I spent most of the day scanning my peers making sure no one was looking at you. I was careful not to move around too freely as to avoid any jiggling. It was hard not to focus on the girls with smaller, less dimpled thighs. Instead of a day at the beach, it was more of a day in my head.
In college, I let your calf friends out in some skirts and dresses, but you were too lumpy, squishy, and still not fit for public viewing. Thankfully, I chose a college in snowy Wisconsin so keeping you under wraps was rational.
Fast forward through three years of living in Japan (a land of many small-thighed people…sigh), meeting a lovely British guy, marrying him, moving back to the US, getting a masters degree. While we hadn’t made peace yet, my anxiety about your shape diminished. Too much life was happening for us to think about our relationship much.
You grew during pregnancy. How was that even possible? (Was it for the gentle landing my mom had spoken about so many years ago?)
With Owen, James, and Andrew, our relationship transformed from troubled to peaceful. Somehow these little humans made me realize that soft, juicy thighs were part of the package of joyful things my life now included. My kids and husband loved me just as I was, and I finally gave you the freedom you’d yearned for for too long. Shorts! Swimsuits! I wore these less restrictive items to participate in life with my active family. (Can you imagine if I would’ve kept you covered up in denim all the time?) While initially a little self-conscious, I also enjoyed the freedom we were both experiencing.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get better between us, running happened.
We started running over five years ago, and neither of us have ever looked back. Suddenly you were the strength that propelled me to my running goals. You had a purpose and with all of the miles we shared, our quads got muscly, and we both felt the assurance that accomplishment can bring. If you’d have told 14-year-old Heather that she’d choose a pair of 3” inseam running shorts at the age of 41, she would have fainted of embarrassment.
You now have important work to do! Squats, hill repeats, and long runs. Even a marathon!
You allow me to do all these things and you and I have never felt freer!
Sure, you’ve still got dimples. You’re still soft. But I finally and totally love you just the way you are. I couldn’t care less who sees you getting a runner’s tan in the summer! #coolrunner
Thanks for having the patience to know that I’d eventually see what freedom, strength, and confidence you would bring me.
I am so very thankful that we’ve arrived at this place together. Now, let’s go do 20 more squats.
Love,
Heather