Mama Penguin

It is 2 days after the Highlands Ranch Half Marathon and I still couldn't run if a bear chased me!  It was a point-to-point downhill race.  With 1,000 feet of total elevation loss, I banked time in the first 6 miles, letting gravity push me down the hill at 7:30-8:00 miles.  Using gravity to push me down those steep grades felt like flying at the time, but getting up the next day made me feel like I jumped off a 10 story building and let gravity do its worst.  My legs, butt, back, arms, shoulders, and stomach all feel like I was hit by a city bus. 

My kids have aptly named me "Mama Penguin," over the last 48 hours.  I waddle like an Emperor Penguin and take nice slow steps wherever I go.

Stairs are my nemesis and I've been reduced to crawling up them slowly, belly down, grunting like an angry bird.  If I could install a slip 'n slide inside my house, I would slam the floor, belly down cruising from room to room, avoiding all contact with my legs for a week!

The idea of an ice bath has never looked so appealing!  I've never had to ice my legs this much after a race.

 
The race itself was a blast.  It was the inaugural year and of course there were some kinks that will need to be worked out: excessive waiting lines at the packet pick up, limited or no water for post two hour finishers, and a 10 minute delayed start, but overall it was very well managed.

I ran with 5 great friends.  We each ran our own race and met at the end for a good beer and constant laughs.

 

If you've never run a race with a group of friends, I highly recommend it!  Monica, my training partner, shopped for all of our race day throwaways at the local Savers and she found some treasures.  The race start alone, made everything worth it.  I haven't laughed that hard before a race, EVER!

Thank you Caitlin, who played volley ball in '05. 

I am not sure why any Grandma would have thrown out this invaluable purple valour jumper, but this women's medium sacrifice made my husband look great on race morning!

Throughout the race, we passed each other, cheered one another on, and took bets on who would bomb out first.  My husband finished first of our group in 1:46:43.

We waited for all 6 of us to cross the finish and each complained equally the next day about our unmatched sore muscles and nasty feet. 

While the race "hangover" left me swearing I would never run that hard again, I woke this morning proud of my new PR (1:53:40), and desperately trying to figure out how I can run the Denver Rock 'n Roll faster than my 8:40 average pace.

Compression Sucks

For six months I've used various brands of compression socks to help ease the post run soreness I am graced with in my calves.  It's become even more important since I switched to running in barefoot style shoes, as I have never been so incapacitated walking up and down stairs, 24 hours after a run. 

However, in the last month or so I've noticed that the compression socks cause intense pain during the run.  It starts with a slow unnerving twitch that grabs the side of my ankle and takes hold of the calf by mile 1.  It almost feels like my shoes are too tight, but they are as loose as possible without the shoe falling off my foot mid-stride.

I have done a few experiments in the last 2+ weeks judging what the problem might be.  

Day 1 - This was my base test.  I ran 7 miles with my CEP compression socks, size II, as normal.  By mile 1, I was in such pain I questioned why I enjoyed running.  By mile 3, I loosened my shoes to the point that I knew they were going to ricochet off my feet if I tripped on an uneven side walk.  Ironically, after mile 4 the pain lessened and I was able to trot along like normal.  There was not a change in pace, hills, terrain, or stride.  The anaconda just slowly relinquished its grip on my calves.  Furthermore, my calves experienced no pain or soreness following the run.

Day 2 - I ran without my compression socks for 5 miles.  My ankles started out a bit tender, but that is because I was sore from my longer weekly mileage.  It eased quickly and I was fine within a half mile.  I thoroughly enjoyed the run and felt only slight soreness in my calves as I charged up large hills.  I felt great throughout the run, but the next day was another story.  Running without compression socks made the run enjoyable, but left me tip toeing around my house the whole next day like a paranoid robber.  Stretching and rolling out my calves turned me into a sadist. 

I went about this experiment for 2 weeks, alternating my typical runs with and without compression socks.  By the end of the second week, I was so beat down by the paradox of either being sore during my run or experiencing tender calves for days afterward.  Before giving up completely, I decided to look into the proper sizing and the science behind compression.

First of all, I needed a new pair of socks.  Perhaps this was a silly and easy fix.  My calves have grown substantially since I bought my first pairs 6 months ago and it was time for more room in the channel.  This might explain why the discomfort during my run has increased over the months of use.  However, this wasn't the smoking gun I expected.  It definitely reduced pain by about 50% but I was still substantially more comfortable during the run when I left them tucked deep in my sock drawer.

Next came the science.  The CEP compression socks insert promises that wearing compression gear will transport oxygen to the muscles more efficiently than the body can transfer on its own.  Compressing the lower leg is supposed to stimulate blood flow throughout the leg.  If blood can move more effectively, negative by-products from running can quickly be removed, leaving the runner more energized and comfortable.

Wearing compression gear (according to CEP):

• Activates the muscles
• Reduces risk of injury
• Improves blood flow
• Enhances performance up to 5%
• Stabilizes ligaments and tendons
• Reduces muscle vibration
• Leaves fewer muscle pains
• Increases circulation
• Accelerates muscle regeneration

Those are a lot of promises, and while I read that list I snickered, imagining a miracle drug infomercial.

Personally, I agree with 3 things on the above list.

1. Leaves fewer muscle pains.  This only works post run though as I just can't move beyond the actual pain while running the first 5 miles in them.  After the run, however is a substantial difference that I can take to the bank.  When I wear my compression socks for a half marathon, I am remarkably less sore following the race.  (During the race, I want to limp to the finish, but hey, I'll feel good the next day...)
2. Reduces muscle vibration. When we strike the ground, our tendons, muscles, and ligaments vibrate.  Scientists believe that vibration is what causes a lot of the post run soreness that I have come to hate after a long hilly run.  When I wear my compression socks, I have only slight, if any muscle soreness post run.    
3. Enhances performance 5%.  I indeed run faster when I wear them.  The pain in my muscles is somehow less intense when I run faster.  When you want to escape pain, run from it!  

Scientific studies also produce mixed results on the effectiveness of compression gear.  Ali et al. (2007) found no benefit from compression.  On the other hand, Kremmier et al. (2009) found compression socks helped improve a runner's lactate threshold during exercise and left them less sore post run.   

Most discomforts caused by my compression socks fade beyond five miles.  However reaching that fifth mile can be excruciating.  I don't run so that I can feel the blood pool in my calves for any amount of time.  While I appreciate the benefits of compression post run, I plan to shelf my knee highs for a while.  Perhaps strengthening my calf muscles through weight training and yoga will naturally improve my calf soreness long term.  I switched to barefoot style running shoes so that I could connect with my body and run as nature intended.  Perhaps I don't need additional fanfare to protect my body and I simply need to improve on its bare perfection.