KeyBank Vermont City Marathon

One week ago today, I ran the KeyBank Vermont City Marathon in Burlington. The race went well from the Start to about mile 18 when I started getting sharp pains in my left knee (the "good" knee). The only time my knee has acted up like this was at the Rockin' K 50-mile race where I dropped down to the marathon finish because of the same problem: shooting pain in my knee that was so sharp I would have to walk. After looking online, I think the cause of the pain may be my illiotibial band (ITB). When an athlete overtrains or has week hip flexors, the ITB rubs over a section of the knee and can become inflamed and cause pain. For some runners, the pain starts right away or mid-run, or in my case, later on in the run when the supporting muscles become fatigued. I need to visit my sports medical physician to find out if this is in fact the cause of my pain.


After the initial shot of pain at mile 18, the shooting pain became more frequent and significant as I ticked on the mileage. At mile 24 I was pretty much reduced to a shuffle even though I had plenty of energy. It hurt too much to try to run full out. This is the first race that I wondered if I would be able to run the entire course. At points in the race the pain would force me to pick up my knee and hop for a couple of steps until I could stop and walk. I cried a few times out of frusteration. I felt like a race horse left in the paddock to watch the other horses run. I continually asked my knee to hold out until the Finish.

(At home before driving into Burlington for the race)

The race was pretty cool for such a huge on-road event. The pavement was a bit rough on the old body but the crowds off set that challenge. I enjoyed seeing the residents along the streets, some still dressed in pajamas with a mug of steaming coffee in their hands. It began to rain early on but that didn't deture these Vermonters from coming out and cheering us on.

I ran past bands and drummers, some that were good and others that made me cringe (and laugh), and folks dressed up as if it were halloween. Many residents offered their own aid stations at the end of their driveways, offering oranges and water.

The race directors set up aid stations every couple of miles and provided CarbBoom, Gatorade, and water. I only snagged two CarbBooms and used water to fill up my bottles before dropping in a Nuun tab. I went through 4 Nuun tabs and could have used one more. I ate 3 GU shots and 4 electrolyte tabs. After finishing, I noticed a layer of salt on my face--I should have ingested a few more electrolyte tabs.

Using Nuun tabs rocked! For once, I didn't get a gas stomach; no burping or farting! Kind of nice if you ask me. I think that gas is created by the sugar water, which Nuun doesn't have. Nuun provides electrolytes but no sugar. At mile 24 a group was handing out small shots of beer. Because of my knee pain, I decided to give it a go! Man, did it taste good going down. Coming up wasn't so nice though.

After the finish we were given a Finisher's medal and escorted to the Runner's Food Tent where Hannaford provided yoghurt, raisins, apples, bananas, bagels, and at the very end of the line, Ben and Jerry's ice cream! I grabbed my snacks and headed over to the race course, set up a mini-picnic area and gorged. It was great. I decided to wait until getting home to take my shoes for fear of swelling, making the walk back to the truck difficult.


Once I got home I soaked my feet in a bucket of ice water while telling Dave of the day's events. He couldn't come to the race due to a leg injury. Being on crutches would make it difficult to get around the race area. After icing my feet, I popped a few blisters and took a shower. Then Dave and I drove to the pub and sat outside eating our burger and fries and sipping tasty brews. After our meal we came home and watched a movie.


The best part about this race is that I have recovered super fast. The next day I was able to sweep and mop the entire house and take the dogs for walks. Only 6 days later, I was able to go for an awesome hike on the Long Trail. I haven't ran yet but plan to start up again tomorrow. We'll see what the knee has to say about that!

Mountain Biking in Stowe

Last night after work I went mountain biking in Stowe. The trails were awesome! Swoopy, swervy, sweet trails that were just hard enough to make me work. I rode through stands of conifers and deciduous trees, boggy areas with narrow wooden bridges, and rocky, rooted trails that bounced me around. At one point I came to a "T" in the trail and, after reading the map, couldn't figure out which way to go. I knew where I was by the "You are Here" star on the map, but wasn't sure where that was in relation to where I came from. As I was standing there, eyes glazing over starring at the map, but trying to focus on where to go, a gal road up behind me. I asked her if she knew the trails; she did. I told her how much time I had and asked which way to go. Rather than trying to orient me and send me on my merry way, she offered to show me around!

Man, was she good! She flew ahead of me and dropped over this huge slab of rock that jutted up like a rotten stump on the trail. I had to stop, get off my bike, and sally my way around. She flew ahead and I panted, trying to keep up. I was grinning from ear to ear to finally be riding with a girl that was a damn good mountain biker! I thought of my friend, Chrissy, who taught me how to mountain bike and how she was so patient with me; how she constantly yelled at me to keep my feet on the pedals as my legs flew out like wings whenever I was scared.

After riding a loop together, we stopped and she pointed out Bear Run, a trail that would lead me to Mountain Road, where I could pop out and bike back to my car. So it's down that way, I asked, pointing in the direction of the trail. Here, I'll show you, she said. Bear Run is a super fast snake that zips you faster and faster on a bed of pine needles, downhill all the way. Woo hoo! I hollered as we met back up at Mountain Road (of course, she was way ahead of me on Bear Run).

Back at the cars we exchanged emails and phone numbers and talked about getting together again. I told her it was the highlight of my day to see her drop over that rock and thanked her for showing me around. As I pedaled away I was so happy and thankful for my ride and felt a bit like a geek because of my unchecked enthusiasm. I hope I didn't scare her away!

Today and tomorrow are taper days before Sunday's Burlington Marathon. I know I haven't talked much about the race but I have been training for quite some time now, not for anything in particular, and pondering the idea of running the marathon because of its location close to my home. I decided to go for it and signed up a couple of weeks ago. It's not my typical race due to the size--4000 marathoners and 8000 competitors total (the race also has a relay portion)--and the terrain (all on pavement), but the course is pretty, running along Lake Champlain, and not far from my house. Plus it will show me sections of Burlington that I have never seen before.

Tapering is always tough but after such a great mountain bike ride yesterday, I think I will manage to suffer from little exercise until Sunday, keeping my mountain bike adventure in mind!

BEWARE OF WELLSPHERE

Recently, I received this comment on my blog, which I didn't publish:


Hi Deanna,

Wonderful pictures of the trail. Thank you for sharing them

I'm a physician and former faculty member at Harvard and Stanford Medical Schools. I discovered your blog while looking for the best health writers on the web. I reviewed your posts, and think your writing would be a great addition to the Running Community on Wellsphere, a top 5 health website that has nearly 5 million visitors monthly. If you would like to learn more about how you can join our Health Blogger Network, republish your blog posts and be featured on the Wellsphere platform, just drop me an email at dr.rutledge@wellsphere.com.

Cheers,
Geoff

I looked up the company and found some disturbing news about Wellsphere (one comment of which I have published below). If you want to maintain ownership and full control of your blog, do not sigh up with Wellsphere!

See a felow blogger post below:


January 28th, 2009

How The Health Blogosphere Was Scammed

by Dr. Val

In a press release dated January 28, 2009, the HealthCentral Network announced the acquisition of a company called Wellsphere from its young CEO, Ron Gutman. Many of my fellow medical bloggers are familiar with Wellsphere as they’ve received countless email form letters from Wellsphere’s CMIO, Dr. Geoffrey Rutledge. The form letters are flattering, and suggest that the company would like to feature the blogger’s writing on their platform.

But what happens next is disturbing – to become a member of Wellsphere, bloggers provide access to their blog’s RSS feed. Hidden in the fine print is the blogger’s consent for Wellsphere to publish the entire feed (in other words, all of the blogger’s written work) and that once it’s published on their site, they own the intellectual property rights to it.

Astonishingly Wellsphere convinced some 1700 bloggers to join their network, and have now sold their site (which is comprised almost entirely of blog post content) to HealthCentral Network for an undisclosed amount, likely in the millions.

How much did the bloggers get for their writing? As far as I know, zero dollars.

In the reference section below you will see copies of emails sent by Dr. Rutledge and excerpts from the website’s Terms of Use document.

Is this the biggest scam ever pulled on health bloggers? You decide. If you have any additional information, feel free to post it in the comments section below.

Addendum: HealthCentral Network CEO tells Wall Street Journal “most bloggers are happy about Wellsphere.” If you disagree, send protest Tweet #wellsphere or leave comment below.

Top of The Notch

For the past week, I have been commuting through Smugglers' Notch rather than taking the interstate to work. The Notch is closed for the winter but opens up again in May. Smugglers' Notch tops out at 2240 ft before dropping down into the mountain town of Stowe. High vertical walls tower over the road as the two-lane highway quickly turns to a narrow strip with no center line. Waterfalls cascade near the road and trees, twisted and wind blown, wrap their roots around anything solid, shooting up to catch the light with their leaves.

A number of hiking trails wind through the woods and up over the cliffs, reaching the top of Mt. Mansfield, Sterling, Madonna, and if you travel far enough, Whiteface. Last night, I decided to take advantage of these easy access points and ran up to Sterling Pond, a popular destination for tourists due to its short duration, only 1.2 miles one-way. 1.2 steep miles. I decided to run past the pond to the shelter. Here's to my first mountain run of the season!



On my way up the trail.


Bounding over boulders is a necessity on this trail.

Whoo, it's tiring!
To the pond I go!
Made it.
Sterling Pond.



Little bunny hiding in the brush.
View of the pond from the shelter.
Mt. Mansfield. View from the shelter.

Pretty nice, see?


Oh crap, it's time to head home for dinner. I told Dave that if I didn't call him by 7 PM he should haul ass to the trailhead and come looking for me.

Nice views of the Greens Mountains.
Climbers on the rock in the Notch.

Multi-pitch route.

This morning I read "I Love My Job!", a column by Eric Hansen in Outside magazine, and found it quite fitting for my current situation. In the column, Hansen says that his mother encouraged him to follow Joseph Campbell's advice (which she heard about while watching a PBS program) and follow his dreams, doing what he loved for a living. Hansen goes on to talk about his experience following "bliss" while enrolled at Colby College in Maine, majoring in a self-created major of "Self and Society" which he said was "unique in many ways, not the least because it was the only degree more unemployable than philosophy, my second major."

After college he decided to continue his search for paradise and attempted to be a reporter only to be told by a dinky smalltown newspaper that his qualifications--3 classes in english--did not amount to enough experience and he should try applying elsewhere. After this he decided to get into photojournalism and went on tour giving slideshows for senior citizens. By a stroke of luck, he met a senior whose son worked as a photo editor for The Seattle Times. He got in touch with the editor and scheduled a review of his work, a sort of interivew. As the editor inspected the slides with his eyepiece, Eric sat hopeful, expecting the editor to love his best photo of "four Newar women clutching an overexposed white blob that might or might not have been a baby." Not more than one minute into the interview the editor looks up from the photos and says, "I'm sorry, you have no future in photojournalism."

After several more attempts finding his dream job: a coffee barista and carpenter (this stint was more to make money for a trip to Kathmandu where he would be turned away by aid organizations); an aid worker in Kalighat; and a stab at working for an ad agency, who declined even an interview, Eric was finally nudged by a friend in the direction of magazines. He was tossed around a bit before applying for a job at Outside magazine. Here is what Hansen writes about the experience:

I'd read the magazine only once, but I remembered liking it. My mood began to brighten. I crafted a cover letter (one that misspelled the editor's name), dived into the copyediting test (using the wrong symbols), and wove an account (unbelieveable sappy) of my summer as a fire lookout.

The timing was right. An editor called to inform me that an intern had quit mid-tenure. If I could make it halfway across the country in a week, his job was mine.

"Thank-you very much," I gushed. "I know I don't have a lot of experience, but I'm a hard worker and quick learner and I think--"

"Listen,"she interrrupted. "You're not qualified. Just keep your mouth shut and your head down and you'll do fine."

I followed the editor's instructions--what I lacked in talent, I tried to make up for with hustle. Because at that point, it was a dream job, the profoundest bliss.

After reading the column, I tore it from the magazine, stapled and rolled it up, and stuck it in my lunch box. I have it sitting on my desk and am chuckling as I write about it. Hansen's self-depricating reflection shook me from my often grim, self-absorbed predicament and helped me to lighten up, to take the edge off and see life for the spectacle that it is, or better said by my professor, "That, my girl, is the wheel of life revolving." And revolve it does. I feel fortunate to have stumbled on Hansen's column; it allowed me to see the humor in our every day stuggles and reminded me that we are never alone.

To read columns by Eric Hansen click here.

Climb on!

This morning Dave and I met with new friends for a trip to Bolton West, a climbing area near Bolton, VT. The area is pretty tiny but has nice views and some decent climbs. Not the best rock I have ever climbed, but definitely not the worst! We started out with two nice 5.8s, warming up the muscles and getting used to going vertical, before moving on to a burly 5.10b that seemed finesse free, followed by a 5.10a face climb with a bit more class.

As Dave worked his way up the 5.10b, I noticed a bird's nest not far from the climb tucked away under an overhang. I watched as the female flitted in and out of the nest, landing on a branch nearby before diving back into the nest. She tilted her tail up and down, the signature sign of a phoebe.

I remembered the phoebes on our back porch in Missouri and how they would return year after year to build a nest in the rafters. And how I would see the babies after they hatched, poking their bald heads over the lip of the nest, chirping like crazy when mama arrived with bugs to eat; how the mother picked up their droppings with her beak and flew it away, keeping the nest clean. The first time I saw her swoop in and grab a white terd and then swoop away, I thought for sure my eyes were playing tricks on me. So I stood silently by the screen door until I saw her do it again. I was surprised but it made perfect sense: How else would she keep the nest clean?




After watching the phoebes for a while, and taking Dave off belay, I climbed the 5.10a before we packed up and headed home. On our way out we saw a purple trillium and bunches of bluets (below) growing amid the roots and rocks. So delicate.

Tomorrow I plan to put in 20 miles running on the trails before heading to a bike swap with Dave. I hope my toes aren't too sore from climbing! Right now they feel like they have been sludged with a hammer. Oh the joys of rock climbing.